


Thornwood

by AthenaThoth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gender or Sex Swap, Historical, I have no idea what I'm doing with tags bear with me please, Lady Loki, Lemon, Loki Falls In Love, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Naive Girl, Norns - Freeform, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Smut, Temporarily Unrequited Love, The fates attempt to manipulate the future, Thor is a jerk, Thor steals Loki's girlfriends, Thor: The Dark World, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, cum swapping, references events in Avengers: Infinity War, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 69,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaThoth/pseuds/AthenaThoth
Summary: In 1830, when Ella Merriweather's father dies, leaving her penniless, she accepts a position as a nurse and companion for her landlord's aging father, Mr. Viridian. He treats the girl as a ward, even arranging a Christmas ball so she can have her debut and meet eligible young men. But how can Ella accept suitors, when she is deeply in love with a man she only met once, a man on a black horse with deep green eyes?In Thornwood Hall, the Viridian family mansion in the Cotswolds, Ella finds a secret room full of books and instruments of a sexual nature that help spur her sexual awakening. Meanwhile, Loki, in the guise of the mortal Mr. Viridian, is falling in love with her, but he believes she is too pure and good for him, so he tries to stop himself from seducing her. Each of them longs for the other, without either of them knowing it.





	1. Prologue (Thor: The Dark World) and Saturday, 9 October, 1830, Cotswolds, England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags/warnings specific to this chapter: Plot, Unintentional inappropriate touching, Shakespeare, a sick old man dies (not at all graphically)

_**Prologue** _

  
“Say goodbye.”

“Not this day!”

The black-haired man put as much steel into his voice as he could. He needed to be strong and brutal. He needed to put venom into his words, so that his idiot brother would not make the same mistake he had made.

“This day. The next. A hundred years. It’s _nothing!_ It’s a heartbeat! You’ll _never_ be ready. The only woman whose love you prized will be snatched from you.”

He struggled to fight back the emotion that threatened to choke his voice into nothingness. Thor would hate him for saying it now, but Loki wished someone had told him before...before he met _her._

“And will that satisfy you?” asked the God of Thunder.

“Satisfaction is not in my nature.”

“And surrender is not in mine!”

 _For your sake, dear brother_ , the God of Mischief thought to himself, _I hope that is true. You will need a strong will to survive the pain this love will cause you. If you do not, it will leave your spirit broken and your heart ravaged._  
But despite all he thought, Loki said no more, and merely steered the ship toward destiny.

  
_**Chapter One. Saturday, 9 October, 1830. Cotswolds. England**_  
  
If one were to become lost on the road from Gloucester to Bristol, turning unwittingly and unexpectedly from one’s intended path onto a particular side-road, one might find oneself in the village of Swarthorpe. And if one continued out of Swarthorpe, through the green hills of England’s West Country, one would then find oneself traveling along a tiny track just wide enough for a single carriage that brazenly defied attempts to ascribe to it the epithet of “road.” Further, if one followed that earthen track through the wooded countryside, one would come to a small stone bridge that straddled a stream which flowed westward to the River Severn. On the other side of that bridge, one would see a great building of cream-colored stone, upon the walls of which grew vines of wisteria and rose. It was called Thornwood Hall, and the bridge, and the road, and the little stream, and all the parkland that could be seen belonged to it.  
  
Farther downstream, at a place passed by no road at all, there was a little cottage of cotswold stone that was nearly covered over by rose briars. A man named Merriweather lived there with his daughter. He had once been a vicar, but now he was merely a dying man.  
  
On the hillside that overlooked the cottage and the little stream, there was an orchard. The apples were ripe, and a girl in a gown that was neither fine nor fashionable was perched on a limb of one of the trees. A basket with only two apples in it lay on the ground at the foot of the trunk, for the harvest was exceedingly poor this season, and she had only been able to gather a sparse few. One fruit had grown at the farthest end of a branch, quite high up, and it was for this scarlet pome she was stretching.

So intent was she on her goal that she did not even hear the hoof beats as they came nearer to her position. Her first moment of recognition that there was a horse at all came when she felt the tree limb shake as the thunderous rhythm of the beast’s gallop beat against the ground at an impossible speed, and with more power than she would have believed was imaginable, much less achievable. Startled, she looked up, and having moved so quickly on such a narrow perch, she lost her grip on the branch that was supporting her. Slipping sideways, she tumbled forward off the limb and toward the ground, just as a black horse came into view.  
  
She gasped as she fell, certain her end was upon her. The horse was so close, and was moving so fast, that it would never be able to stop before it reached her. In that fleeting moment, she recognized her doom and prepared herself—either for the impact of the ground, which might kill her swiftly, or for the subsequent trampling to death that would surely occur if the fall did not end her life.  
  
Neither fate came to pass. Instead, she felt two strong hands grasp her, arresting her descent. Unfortunately, the hands that saved her life did so at the cost of her dignity, as one of them grasped her right breast, and the other ended high between her legs, pressed roughly against her maidenhood.  
  
The great black horse was mounted by a man, and it was he who had caught her. As the horse slowed, the man pulled her back toward his body and, seemingly with no effort at all, turned her right-side-up so that she was seated in front of him with her legs dangling against one side of the horse’s shoulders. She turned to look at her savior, and her grey eyes met brilliant green.  
  
She felt a flush coming into her face and neck as she realized where the stranger’s hands had been before he turned her.  
  
“Unhand me!” she exclaimed.

The man’s mouth twitched in surprise. She noticed then that he had thin lips and a sculpted, angular face that put her in mind of the paintings of long-dead noblemen she had seen in the National Gallery when her father had taken her there five years gone. He had hair as black as his horse, and it was longer than that of any man she had ever seen, almost touching his collar. He wore all green, from his velvet coat to his riding boots. His arms, which circled her and held her on the horse, were long and lithe. He was clearly a very tall man.

“I demand you put me down at once!” she said. She would have liked to look away then, but something in the man’s eyes held hers, as if she was fastened into place with her gaze tethered to his.

“Of course, miss,” he said.

His voice…it was like nothing she had ever heard. Somewhere between high and deep, it conjured images in her mind of cold, dark places, of the smell of mint and sweet herbs, and the taste of honey. Those three words crawled along her skin, through her belly and breasts, and down between her legs, to the place his hand had so recently vacated. She felt her entire body grow hot, and she was _afraid_ that he would speak again, but she also desperately hoped he _would_ , so that she could hear his voice once more.

The horse slowed to a stop and stood, breathing and snorting. The man put one of his arms behind her back, the other beneath her legs, and then, holding her as one would hold a child carried to bed, he swung his leg over the horse’s neck, dropping smoothly to the ground with her in his arms. He deposited her on the grass and released her, but the girl was dizzy from the strain of coming so close to death, from the indignity she had suffered with this stranger’s hands upon her person, and from the shock she had felt at the unexpected allure of his voice. As soon as he put her feet on the ground, she swayed and fainted dead away.

When she awoke, the man and horse were both gone. She was lying comfortably on the grass below the trees, her basket now full of apples. She might have merely laid down there to take a nap, rather than to have nearly died.

Elizabeth Merriweather, called Ella—for that is who the girl was—stood up and brushed her hands along her gown, straightening it. She picked up her basket and walked to Rose Cottage as quickly as she could do without falling.

As soon as she reached the gate, she could hear her father coughing from inside the cottage. The sound made her heartsick. He had awoken early from his afternoon slumber, likely because of the near constant coughing that tormented him. Forcing her tears down, she opened the door and swept into the room feigning a lightheartedness she did not feel.

“Good evening, father,” she said cheerfully. “I have been picking apples. How fare you?”

She did not mention the fall, the man, or anything else. What good would it do to tell her poor father that she had suffered such an indignity? It was bad enough that he was dying, there was no need to burden his mind with _her_  petty tribulations. She was also ashamed that she had been so startled that she had forgotten to thank the man for saving her life. Even if the stranger had done so at the expense of her respectability, she should at least have told him she was grateful to be alive. Admitting even that much to her father would have broken his heart, to know that he could have raised a daughter so ill-mannered.

“I am well, Ella dear,” her father said. For him, ‘well’ was a relative notion rather than an absolute one. “I am glad you were able to find so many apples. I thought the late frost this year would have killed most of the blossoms before they were able to set fruit.”

Ella had wondered where all the apples came from, but she thought perhaps she had hit her head in her fall, or in some other way injured herself so that she had forgotten she had already picked a basketfull.

“There is enough fruit to make at least a few pies, and for that, I am grateful,” she said.

“Would you read to me, while there is still light?” her father asked.

“What shall I read?”

“Anything you would like, my dear,” he said.

She looked at the little case where all their books resided. Most were religious texts that her father had used in his profession, but among them were several that she found more interesting. Ella found her father’s former life as a clergyman, while moral and respectable, to be unimaginably boring.

When her father saw which volume she had chosen, he laughed a little. “Ah, yes, your favorite friend.”

Ella smiled and settled down on the chair near the window, where the light was best for reading.

 _My love is as a fever, longing still_  
_For that which longer nurseth the disease,_  
_Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,_  
_The uncertain sickly appetite to please._  
_My reason, the physician to my love,_  
_Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,_  
_Hath left me, and I desperate now approve_  
_Desire is death, which physic did except._  
_Past cure I am, now reason is past care,_  
_And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;_  
_My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,_  
_At random from the truth vainly express'd;_  
_For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,_  
_Who art as black as hell, as dark as night._

If her father was curious as to why she would begin the evening’s reading with a sonnet about the danger of the pleasures of the flesh, he did not show it. She read until there was not light enough to continue, and then she built the fire up to protect her father against the autumn chill, and made supper.

That night, in her pallet in the little chamber behind the parlor where she slept, she dreamt of the man on the black horse. This time, instead of setting her on her feet, he had borne her to the ground, and she felt the weight of him on top of her as she encircled him with her arms.

The morning after his daughter’s ordeal in the orchard, George Merriweather’s coughing ceased. Ella was outside, pruning the rose canes back so they would bloom in the spring when she heard the end of his labors. Even though she had prepared for this moment for the past ten years, she screamed and wailed like the fabled banshee, holding her father’s hand and begging God to breathe life back into him, or to take her in trade. When she recovered enough from her grief to stand, she walked the seven long miles to Swarthorpe to arrange for her father’s burial.

Ten days after his death, and a mere week after he had been buried, a solicitor came to the door of Rose Cottage. His name was Mr. Edwards. Ella brought tea out to the garden, where several benches served them as well as chairs in the parlor would have. It was cold, but freezing was better than having to be alone in the cottage with a strange man.

Mr. Edwards made little small talk.

“Miss Merriweather, what do you know of your father’s affairs?”

“I know he had a humble income, which was left to him by his father. It is that which has sustained us these many years since he became too ill to attend to parishioners.”

“Yes, the income. That is the matter about which I have come to see you today. In the interest of making your discomfort quick instead of lingering, I will plainly say that there is an entail on the income. In the event of your father’s death, with you unmarried and with no male heir in this line, the income reverts to your father’s second cousin in London. I’m sorry, Miss, but you are penniless.”

Long after Mr. Edwards left, Ella sat in the garden. When she grew so cold her teeth began to chatter, she finally gathered the tea cups and went inside the cottage that would soon be her home no longer.

For all her romantic notions about Shakespeare and the other flights of fancy she was prone to indulge in, Ella was, for the most part, a practical girl. And so, the morning after Mr. Edwards’ visit, she put on her hat and trudged up the hill and down into the wide valley where the landlord’s house lay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic ever and I'm nervous as Hel! I would appreciate any and all constructive criticism. I am trying to learn the tags thing, so I will add them as I can, but I'll also post chapter-specific tags and other content warnings at the start of each chapter. Please read them! Some of this is super fluffy, but there is some hardcore smutty smut as well.
> 
> It started out as a lark—I just wanted to answer the question of why, in Thor: The Dark World, Loki is so vehement about Thor not falling in love with a mortal. When Loki says that it will cause Thor nothing but pain, it occurred to me that perhaps the reason is that Loki himself had, at some point in the past, fallen in love with a mortal whom he lost. This is my attempt to tell that story. Portions of it are written somewhat "Bronte" or "Austen," since it's taking place in that era. Ella is very much a Regency/Hanoverian heroine. Loki, however, is himself. He's a less of an angry little ass in this, however, because all of it except the prologue and epilogue occur before any of the Thor movies, when Loki is younger and a lot less jaded.
> 
> Prologue dialogue is from Thor: The Dark World.
> 
> Swarthorpe is not a real village in the West Country. There is a village with that name listed in the Domesday Book, from before the 14th century, but it was in Berkshire. The name is made from the words “swart” and “thorpe,” meaning “black,” and “small village,” respectively, in Anglo-Saxon. As far as I can determine, there is no Thornwood Hall, either. I have attempted to make the names of all places/houses/persons in this work fictional. Any resemblance to any person(s) or place(s), other than characters borrowed from existing media, is unintentional.
> 
> The sonnet is William Shakespeare, Sonnet 147.


	2. Wednesday, 13 October, 1830

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki can't get the young woman he met out of his mind, and decides to seduce her. But what is the best way to get her into his clutches?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: Loki sure gets around the nine realms, a little nostalgia of smut, anal sex (mentioned), oral sex (mentioned), M/F, M/M

The God of Mischief was intrigued. It was rare for him to waste even a moment of his attention on a mortal, much less to have one capture his mind for nearly a fortnight. And yet, since the moment she had, quite literally, fallen into his arms, he could not stop thinking of the girl.

His first thought, when he had caught her and felt the swell of her breast under one hand, and the heat of her cunt on the other, was that he would take her, right there on the ground of the orchard. He would not rape her, of course. He would not need to. Loki had learned long ago that his charm, when he chose to expend it, was sufficient to woo nearly any female—and the occasional male, as his taste allowed—of most of the races that populated the nine realms. Midgardians, the most fragile and least magical of all the beings he knew of, were particularly susceptible to him. He had only to extend the most minimal amount of effort to have them panting in heat, willing to engage in any manner of depraved acts. Denizens of other realms fared much the same.

Once, on Vanaheim, he had seduced a woman, her husband, and all three of their daughters—all in the same day, and without any of them having realized they were not his only lover in the house. He had fond memories of that event. Having gotten the pleasure of all three daughters by noon, he spent the early evening leisurely taking the woman in the anus over and over again, and then convinced her husband to take Loki’s gift down his willing throat. Tasting the tang of his wife and daughters upon the god’s cock, the man had remarked that he had never tasted anything so sweet, and Loki had not bothered to stifle his laughter as the man sucked him dry. Loki had made a second circuit of the entire house, using nothing but his mouth to bring all four women to shuddering conclusions. As he suspected, none of the women, not even the wife, had ever been tasted before.

On Alfheim, he had seduced two beautiful sisters, who then set upon each other, each in a bid to win him for herself. He had ended the fight by disrobing in front of them, so they could see how large and proud his instrument was, and had convinced them to take him together. He had made a game of it, having them kneel, hip to hip, as he took them from behind, thrusting in one for a few moments, then switching to the other, and telling them that the one who brought him to his release first could have a lovely jewel he conjured. In the end, he had rewarded both of them, for one made him climax first, but the other had a tighter, sweeter cunt.

He had never dared to attempt coitus with either a fire elemental of Muspellsheim, an ice elemental of Niflheim, or the fearsome giants of Jotunnheim, but creatures from all six of the remaining worlds had fallen to his lust at some point or another.

So when he had caught her and set her in front of him on the saddle, he had thought to do much the same. He would slow his horse, help her to the ground, and dote on her, showing great gentlemanly concern and making sure she had suffered no injury. Under that pretense, he would have gently touched her all over her young body, stroking desire into her limbs, while soothing her with his most seductive words, inflaming her passion until she begged him to take her.

But then, she had turned around.

He felt a shock through his body unlike anything he had experienced, on any realm. Her face was exquisitely beautiful, but he had seen beauty before. No Midgardian, even one this lovely, could ever compare to the delicate features of the residents of Aelfheim, or the raw vigor of an Aesir. What startled him about _this_ woman was the fierce intelligence and strength he saw in her enormous grey eyes. Both were exceedingly uncommon on Midgard.

Then, she had shocked him a second time, by not only resisting his handsome face, usually the first weapon of his seduction, but by taking offense that he had touched her, and raising her voice to him.

“Unhand me!” she had exclaimed, and Loki felt his mouth start to contract into a smile for an instant, before he regained control of himself again and suppressed the urge to be entertained by this mortal’s defiance.

“I demand you put me down at once.”

“Of course, miss,” he had said, and watched as her face colored. Ahhh yes. Here was the key to this lovely.

Long ago he had discovered that different forms of his charm worked on different beings. For some, seeing him was enough. Some needed touch to make them his. And some, like this girl, needed to hear the smooth tones of his voice seductively lapping at their soul before they would capitulate. Once he set her down, he would apologize for the way he had caught her, begging her forgiveness for the places his hands had inadvertently invaded her. He might drop to one knee and take one pale hand in his, kissing the back of it. He would ask her if he could help her home, and speak to her along the way. It didn’t matter what they talked about. His voice would lull her into a reckless, lustful frenzy. By the time he delivered her to the door of her cottage, she would be ready for him, and he would whisper to her that she should wait until dark and then slip out of the house and meet him in the orchard, where he would have all night to sate his hunger, and hers.

But as he had set her feet down, the girl had dropped suddenly, swooning into a stupor. He caught her as she fell, bearing her to the ground gently. Looking down at her, her unbound hair spread out around her face, pale throat exposed by the neckline of her rough, simple gown, he had felt something odd. If he did not know himself to be incapable of such, he would have believed it to have been _morality_. For whatever reason, the idea of seducing the girl suddenly lost its appeal. A girl who would be this overcome by the strain of simply having his hand upon her for a brief instant was surely so innocent that she might not even know what she had felt when she heard his voice. He had seen a flicker of confusion on her face when he spoke, which he had trouble understanding the cause of. Now, he realized it was that she was so innocent that her own desire, which he could read so plainly, confused her because she had never felt its like. She was naught but a child, and he knew he would take no pleasure in corrupting pure, perfect innocence such as this.

He looked around and saw her basket with its paltry harvest at the base of the tree. With a wave of his hand, he multiplied the apples. He set a simple spell of protection over her that would keep any other creature—animal or otherwise—from assailing her until she woke, and then, mounting Slepnir, he had gazed down at her once more, and ridden back to Thornwood Hall.

For every day since, he had been unable to keep the girl from his mind. He imagined her soft skin under his fingertips, and he longed to press his mouth to that pale throat. What lovely sounds would she make as he teased her with his tongue, lips, fingers, and cock? How would her virginal puss feel clenched around him? It was driving him to madness.

Several times, he had saddled his horse and thought to ride to the cottage, to draw her out and seduce her—innocent or not. Each time, he ventured near Rose Cottage only to turn back, holding himself in check.

On the third day after he had first seen her, he overheard two of the mortal servants who worked in the house gossiping about a preacher who had died. He was set to ignore them, as he usually did, but then he heard one of them say “Rose Cottage.”

He knew the resident of Rose Cottage—the old vicar, at least. Each time he had been there, in one of his many guises, the girl had been elsewhere—the orchard, the village, out picking berries. That was why their interlude in the orchard was the first time he had seen her. Interest piqued, he listened to the servants’ chatter.

“So terribly sad,” said Marie, the chambermaid in her thick Parisian accent.

“And his young daughter, all alone I think,” said Eloise, the laundress.

“Oui! Her mother has been gone a long while, I believe.”

“They’ll bury him today.”

“Yes. On a Wednesday! A terrible day for a funeral, in the midst of the week, but he died on Sunday, so that is the natural day for it.”

The two women continued on in that vein for some time, and after ascertaining their babbling would give him no more useful information, he stopped paying attention and once again became lost in his own thoughts. Little did those mortals know, Wednesday—Wodensday—was the _best_ day to be buried.

The girl was alone now. Would she be easier to seduce? Or more difficult? Would her grief cause her to spurn the attention of an admirer? Or would her sorrow open her more fully to his soothing arms? He decided to wait a few days before approaching her. Best to at least let the father’s body cool before he warmed his own at the old man’s daughter’s hearth.

Another week passed, and he had almost convinced himself to ride to the cottage and take her when he chanced to look out the window and saw her trudging down the carriage drive.


	3. Thursday, 21 October, 1830

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Ella leave Rose Cottage? How can Loki get her to stay?
> 
> Plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: none

Ella’s father had only taken her to Thornwood Hall once, to meet with the agent on the day they had taken over tenancy of the cottage. But since then, she had climbed the hill that separated it from her cottage many times and looked down upon the great stone edifice in wonder. She had cautiously approached it on many occasions, always being careful to not be seen by any servants working the grounds, and to stay out of sight of the windows as much as she could, so that she could examine the dwelling at close quarters. It was not that it was such a great house that impressed her, but that it had such fine detail in its stonework. Every door and window was crested by ornaments worked into the stone. Upon each pediment, there was a symbol Ella imagined must be the arms of the original occupant, which showed two great scaled snakes entwined in a double figure-eight. There were grotesques stationed along every cornice, and gargoyles at each corner, but most fascinating was that all along the frieze there were lines and symbols subtly carved into the pale stone. They were so slight that they could almost be mistaken for natural flaws in the rock, but Ella had grown to know the marks so well that she could see patterns in them that could never be random weathering of water or wind.  After looking at them many times, she found that the scenes seemed to be from a tale, though Ella knew not which one. In the absence of the knowledge of what the scenes truly meant, Ella had discerned that they made a story of a sort if one began on the south facade, above the door to the great lawn, and moving anti-clockwise around the building. The story, as far as she could interpret, was that of a noble prince. In her mind, she told the story thus:

Once upon a time, there was a handsome warrior prince. He had many children, among them a wolf, a snake, an eight-legged horse, and a fearsome woman who made Ella shudder and think of death and decay. One day, the prince met a woman and took her to wife. They had two sons.

There was another warrior, a rival to the prince. They fought many times. The prince fashioned an arrow from a sacred tree, and with this weapon, the prince prevaled, and his enemy fell, the arrow piercing his foot. In retaliation, the father of the rival worked magic upon the prince’s two sons, causing one to become a wolf who then attacked his brother and murdered him.

The prince was at a feast, where he engaged in a contest of song with the other guests. When the prince won the contest, the rival’s father threw a rope of the entrails of the prince’s son about him. Bound with his own son’s blood by dark magic, the prince could not break away and escape. The entrails became iron chains, and the prince was dragged beneath the earth, to be bound under the roots of a tree, through which a serpent was entwined. The serpent dripped acid on the prince’s face, and he writhed in agony. His wife then sat beside him, holding a bowl over his face so that the venom would fall there, and spare her husband. But when the bowl grew full, she had to empty it over the side, and the prince pulled against his chains, shaking the whole of the earth.

Then came a great cataclysm, such as was described in the book of Revelation, and the earth rent apart and great beings fought and murdered each other, and all was burned with fire. The prince and another warrior faced one another and fought, the battle ending in their mutual destruction. But then, the prince rose again, having only pretended to be dead, and he settled on the now-peaceful earth, building a house that looked exactly like Thornwood.

This time, Ella didn’t try to skulk in, hiding behind bushes and skirting the margins of the landscaped gardens, but approached from the carriage drive, in full view of all. She was afraid she must look dreadful in her weathered hat, threadbare old coat, and barely serviceable boots. Nonetheless, several gardners, trimming and preparing the grounds for winter, stood aside from their work and removed their hats as she passed with the same deference they might have shown to a Lady.

She knew the agent’s office was at the side of the house, through one of the service doors, and it was to this that she went, knocking boldly. The door opened and a maidservant listened to her request and withdrew inside for a few moments before returning and ushering Ella into the agent’s office.

The agent, Mr. Lyme, was a man much older than her father had been. He had white hair and a long, narrow face. It was a gentle face, though, and Ella took heart when he kindly held her chair for her and softly invited her to speak whatever was on her mind.

“I will speak plainly, then,” Ella said. “My father died on the eleventh day of this month, and yesterday I was informed that the income he received will be reverting on an entail to another party. I can no longer continue the tenancy of Rose Cottage, and I will leave at the end of the month. I believe that is the duration of how long we were paid up.”

Mr. Lyme leaned forward in his chair.

“I was very sorry to hear about your father, Miss. You are so young to be left alone. Will you go to another relative when you leave Rose Cottage?”

Under any ordinary circumstances, Ella would not have burdened someone who was not an intimate companion with her travails. She might not have even burdened someone who _was_ close to her with them. But these were not ordinary circumstances. Ella had endured so much strain over so short a period of time that her nerves were worn thin and she spoke far more forthrightly than she intended.

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Lyme. I am perhaps older than you think me to be, for I am eighteen this past month. I have no other relatives. My mother died when I was very young. My father had no siblings, nor did my mother. I have no close cousins or any other relation whom I know. My father and I lived in a little village in Bedfordshire until his health grew so poor that he could no longer manage the church. We quit the vicarage and somehow my father heard about this place, so far away from where we were before. We took Rose Cottage because it cost next to nothing, for we had very little, and my father could convalesce in peace until he was relinquished from this mortal coil.

“I now have nowhere to go and no one to go to, but I must survive somehow. I have skill as a nurse, having tended to my father for so long. I may be able to secure a position as an attendant and companion to someone who is ill, and thereby make my way in life.”

She stopped speaking and was deeply embarrassed that she had spoken so boldly to a man she did not even know. Mr. Lyme was looking at her with a sadness in his green eyes. She could not bear to receive pity, and she knew that if he offered her kind words, she would be overcome with emotion. Instead of allowing that, she smiled and stood abruptly.

“I am sorry to have taken up so much of your time, Mr. Lyme,” she said. “I shall remove from Rose Cottage by the end of the month, as I said. Please be well, and good day.”

Before he could say anything that might bring her to tears, she fled, letting herself out the door before the maidservant could attend to it. She did not bother to follow the carriage drive out, but instead crossed the garden, headed straight for Rose Cottage. When she was far enough away from the house that she surmised none could see her, she fell to the ground and sobbed, stifling the noise of her heartache with her hands.

Unbeknownst to her, someone _could_ see her, even at that great distance. Had she faced the house and looked up, she might have seen a tall, pale figure in the window. If she had been able to see him closely, such as a bird might when passing near to the casement, she would have seen that his deep green eyes were focused intensely upon her.

 

Loki changed back into his natural form. If she was prepared to leave the estate now, he would have to seduce her quickly to quench his desire, or find a way to get her to stay. He had determined he did not want to simply take her and throw her away, if he could help it. She was so lovely, he thought that with some encouragement and training from him, she could be a suitable plaything for much longer than a single night’s pleasure. Watching her sob in the garden, her slender fingers clutching the grass, he realized that she truly did not _want_ to leave. All that remained, then, was a way to contrive to keep her.

He could send someone to her, posing as the agent of a mysterious benefactor, who, upon hearing of her plight, had paid up the rent on Rose Cottage for the foreseeable future. The idea had some merit, but he wanted her closer. He wanted to contrive a way to get her into Thornwood Hall itself, so that he could observe her and mold her gently into the shape he desired. If he could have her for long enough, he could nudge her natural inclinations in a different direction, forming her into the perfect vessel for his passions.

But how to get her to stay…? And which guise would be best to lower her suspicions and determine which ways would be best to seduce her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The symbol on the pediment of Thornwood Hall is the sigil of Loki as described in the Prose Edda of Snorri Sturluson: two snakes entwined in a double infinity symbol.
> 
> The story of Loki, which Ella sees on the frieze of the building, his killing of Baldur Odinson with a dart made of mistletoe, his marriage to Sigyn and the lives and deaths of their two sons, Narfi and Vali, the flyting (a contest of insults) of the Gods at Valhalla, his capture with Narfi’s entrails, and his imprisonment under the earth until Ragnarok, the end of all things, when he and Heimdallr the Guardian kill one another are told in the Poetic Edda, the Prose Edda, Heimskringla, Loksenna, and other collected myths/poems of the Norsemen.


	4. Friday, 22 October, 1830

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella moves into Thornwood Hall, discovers a bed fit for a giant, and a secret room fit for a whore. Loki is a Peeping Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: Smut, masturbation, descriptions of sex in books and statuary, voyeurism

Ella had wrapped and packed all the belongings of Rose Cottage. There were not many. All the furniture belonged to the house, as did the linens, except for one coverlet Ella had embroidered and sewn herself. There were the books, her clothes, and some things her father had held dear, like the portrait of her mother that she had given him when they began courting, some twenty years before. Ella had already donated her father’s clothes to the church in Swarthorpe for distribution to the poor.

She was not expecting any visitor, so when someone knocked at the door of Rose Cottage late in the morning, she was startled. It was Mr. Lyme.

“Good morning, Miss,” the old man said. “I hope you won’t think me indiscreet, discussing your troubles with another, but I had to inform the landlord that you were leaving the cottage, and he asked why. When I told him of your situation, he asked if I believed you were a good nurse to your father. I told him that I believed you had been, for every time I saw him, your father seemed as well as could be expected in his condition. The landlord, Mr. Viridian, has an aged father of his own who resides at Thornwood Hall. The last nurse left recently, and Mr. Viridian would like to hire you as nurse to the elder Mr. Viridian. You would have a small wage, in addition to room and board at Thornwood Hall.”

Ella was astonished. She knew the landlord was Mr. Viridian, but apart from that he was—to  judge by the state of Thornwood Hall—very rich, and—to infer from his palpable absence since she had come here eleven years gone—very private, she knew nothing about him. It made her wonder about other things she had never thought of, such as whether or not there was a Mrs. Viridian, or any Viridian children. She had certainly never seen a lady or any young people on the grounds at Thornwood Hall. She had also imagined Mr. Viridian to be so old that his having a father still living seemed improbable.

“I...That is…” she stammered. She thought about the offer quickly. It was an income and a residence, which she was unlikely to be able to obtain elsewhere. Despite her optimism that she could find a position as a nurse or possibly a governess, the truth was that she had no contacts and no friends or relatives to make introductions for her, nor anyone to write her letters of recommendation. Without those, she might never secure a place. She had been keeping the spectre of the poorhouse out of her mind, but if she was honest with herself, she knew it was a distinct possibility that she would end up there, or even somewhere worse. She really had no choice but to take the offered position.

If, she reasoned, she agreed to be nurse to the elder Mr. Viridian, she could still leave Thornwood Hall if the situation did not suit her after a period.

“I will accept, but I would like Mr. Viridian to know that if I find the position unsuitable within the first weeks, I expect to be able to leave with no ill will and no perceived mark upon my character. It is simply that I have never nursed anyone other than my own father, and the needs of the elder Mr. Viridian may be such that I am unsuited to the role. I would not want to impinge on Mr. Viridian’s generosity if I find that I am not matched to the task at hand.”

“I believe Mr. Viridian would find those terms acceptable, Miss Merriweather,” Mr. Lyme said. “When will you be ready?”

Looking around the bare little cottage, she gestured at the small stack of baskets and cases that held everything that was hers. “This is the sum of my estate,” she said. “If you have brought a carriage here today, I may go now.”

Mr. Lyme carried her few boxes to the carriage, which he had left on the road, not too far from the cottage. When he had done so, they drove to Thornwood, and within the hour, Ella was installed in a chamber in the east wing of the great house.

The chamber was, by her estimation, far too grand for her. It was larger by itself than the parlor and the kitchen of Rose Cottage taken together, and the wardrobe, chair, and dressing table were all of fine, darkly varnished wood. The walls and every other thing that could be colored by pigment or fabric were a dark green. All the paintings that hung in the room were dominated by greens and blues, from the seascape near the door to the strutting peacocks on the other side of the room from the bed. And the bed!  _ This _ furnishing was luxury on a level she had never thought to enjoy. Even when they had lived at the vicarage, her bed had been a simple affair. At Rose Cottage, it was little more than a hard pallet that offered no comfort to the body other than the bare relief of lying down. But this…

The bed was wide enough that she could lie crosswise over it and have no part of her off the mattress, even with her arms stretched over her head. It was also long, longer than any bed she had ever seen. She measured it by pacing and determined that a man near eight feet in height, if such a man existed, could have slept there. It was as if the bed was made for a giant. And it was soft. The mattress and pillows all seemed to be stuffed with the finest goose down. The green and black curtains that draped from the bed’s canopy were velvet, and the coverlet was made of some fabric she did not know, but the touch of which made her fingers feel as if they were gliding through soft, cool water. When she pulled back the coverlet, she found that the bedsheets were also of this soft material. The linens all smelled of something she could not define, but it made her think of winter mornings when the air was crisp, and of spices and of...was it mint? Honey? Where had she smelled that before?

She placed her clothes in the wardrobe and set her mother’s portrait on the dressing table. Soon after, she was summoned to tea by the housekeeper, Mrs. Greene. Ella was escorted to a room that appeared to be a large study of some kind. It had enormous windows on one side that looked out onto the garden and a reflecting pool. Within the room, there was a great case with many books, comfortable chairs, a settee of fine, carved wood, and all round the room, paintings of people and landscapes.

She very much expected to meet her employer, to receive instruction in how his father was to be cared for, but he never arrived. In fact, no one arrived, and Ella took her tea in silence, marveling at the room. As if summoned by the sound of an empty cup resonating on its saucer, Mrs. Greene entered as soon as Ella was finished. 

“Pardon me, but will Mr. Viridian be instructing me in the requirements for caring for his father today?”

“Oh no, dearie,” said Mrs. Greene. “Mr. Viridian’s gone off to London just this morning. He leaves for the continent soon after, so he may not return to the house at all for a long while. He is often away.”

“Then who is to instruct me in the needs of the elder Mr. Viridian?” Ella asked. 

“I imagine he’ll tell you himself what he wants, but he’s gone to bed early this day. You’ll not meet him until tomorrow.”

Thus unburdened for another few hours, Ella was told she could, and should, explore the house. 

“You may go nearly anywhere in the house or grounds. The last two rooms on the main hall in the west wing you mustn’t intrude upon, however,” said Mrs. Greene. “The first of them is Mr. Viridian’s room, and he’s sleeping. The second is Mr. Viridian’s room, and he’s away.”

Though Mrs. Greene made no verbal distinction between the two Messrs. Viridian, Ella understood.

Armed with freedom, and with knowledge of the only part of the house forbidden to her, Ella set out to explore. There was a great library, and she longed to touch and read every volume. There was a long gallery with more portraits, a grand dining room, a ballroom, a series of sleeping chambers, and even rooms devoted entirely to bathing. The first of these she found was near to her own chamber, and she wondered if she would be allowed to soak her skin fully and submerge herself in the copper tub with its feet cast in likeness of talons clutching a ball.

On one hallway, however, she found a curious tapestry that covered a strange wall that cold air emanated from. She looked very closely at the wall behind the tapestry and discovered a thin line in the plaster. This was no wall, but a door, cleverly hidden, as it was not outlined by any mouldings or other ornamentation such as most doors had. She pushed on the hidden door and it swung open silently. At the end of the corridor behind it was another door. It proved to lead to another gallery, but one the likes of which she had never seen.

At first, she noticed nothing amiss. There were paintings on the walls, a case filled with books, and many chairs and other furnishings. The first unusual thing she noticed was a statue in a somewhat shadowy corner at the other end of the room. 

Approaching, she saw that the statue was not a grotesque, as she had originally imagined, but was instead comprised of several beings entwined and sculpted in close proximity to each other. The central figure was a woman who wore not a stitch of clothing, not even a drape, such as most classical sculptors employed. Her eyes were half-lidded in pleasure. She was seated on the lap of a male figure behind her, and bent at the waist, her face close to another statue that stood in front of her. Some kind of...protrusion on the sculpture in front of the woman was being swallowed by the woman’s mouth. The standing statue appeared to be male, but the only male sculptures Ella had ever seen did not have a large protrusion in their groin, but rather had a set of small appendages that hung down limply, as if resting. She was unsure how the two related to each other.

The face of the standing male sculpture looked as if the subject was as enraptured as the woman was. There were three more male figures on the woman’s other side. One was the seated one, a bench beneath him was placed between the woman’s knees. That figure’s protuberance was lodged between the folds of skin between the woman’s legs. Ella examined this region closely and marveled at how the sculptor had carved the marble so that the maw of the woman’s orifice could clearly be seen straining and bowing as the large appendage breached it. Another male figure lay on the ground beneath her, his mouth suckling from one of the woman’s breasts while one of his hands kneaded the other. The woman’s hand was grasping the appendage between that figure’s legs. Standing behind her, its legs straddling the seated male, the final male figure was pushing his protrusion into the woman’s rearmost orifice. The seated male had pushed two of his fingers into the same orifice on the man in front of him.

Ella had no idea what any of this was, or what it meant, but for some reason, it made her think of the man on the black horse. Perhaps it was because the four male figures, each of which appeared to be identical, bore some superficial resemblance to him.

Looking around, she now began to realize that what she had taken for simple portraits and landscapes were not what they appeared to be. Some of them contained figures engaged in whatever acts the statues were engaged in, and some others that defied description. Some of the paintings showed male and female pairs, but also male-male pairs, female-female pairs, and groups, all one sex or mixed between the two. 

Lastly, she noticed that some of the furniture was very odd. One strange piece was a padded bench in the middle of the room that seemed to be covered with leather as would be used for boots. The bench seemed to be too tall to sit on, however, as it was above the height of her waist. Even stranger, there were manacles on the legs of the bench. Ella stood on one side of the bench and leaned over it experimentally. If she were able to put her own wrists and ankles into the manacles, she would have been held up off the floor, and spread wide open.

And vulnerable. From this position, anyone approaching from behind would be impossible to see, and she realized with a start that if the person on the bench were unclothed, any passerby would be able to see, and touch, the most intimate of places. 

Ella blushed as she thought of what this might mean, and tore herself away from exploring the rest of the furniture in favor of exploring the books. Certainly there was nothing dangerous in a book. But when she pulled one off the shelf and laid it open, she saw that the volume she had chosen was not a book of words, but a book of drawings. At the page where she had opened, the drawing showed a woman, alone, lying on her back. She was fully unclothed, and one hand gripped her breast, while the other was poised between her legs, fingers between the folds.

Ella knew that there was a small place there, between her own legs, that sometimes felt very pleasant when she washed it, but she didn’t know what it was named or its purpose. She only knew that something called her “maidenhood” was there, and that was something no one should touch before her husband. What her maidenhood was actually comprised of she could not say.

The next page showed another drawing of the same woman in much the same position, only in this illustration she was plunging a carved rod between her legs, into that same orifice as the female sculpture had been receiving the protuberance from the seated male behind her.

The entire book was filled with drawings of this kind, showing human bodies, either alone or entwined with others. One page made her breath catch in her throat. A woman was lying on her back, and a man appeared to be devouring the flesh between her thighs. Ella had heard a missionary in the church in Ravenswold once, when she was very young, describe the practice called cannibalism, wherein one human ate the flesh of the other. In the missionary’s story, however, this had seemed like a vile and immoral act the recipient would neither enjoy nor survive. The woman in the drawing, however, had the same look of rapture on her face as all the rest.

Returning the book to its place, Ella grasped another, this one somewhat smaller. It proved to have words which described acts similar to those depicted in the book of drawings. 

She read aloud.

“For a woman, the most pleasure is derived from a small nub of flesh that lies at the top of the Cleft of Venus. Stimulating this nub with fingers, tongue, lips, phallus, or with some other device proves, with gentle persuasion, to bring the woman to the fullness of her desire, and to the completion of the act of coitus.”

This was why the flesh between her folds felt pleasurable to touch! She was certain of it. She made a quick decision, and taking both books in her hands, she bore them back to her room to study, and perhaps to attempt to replicate.

 

Loki pulled his eye away from the peephole in the wall that looked out from the portrait of Salome and rubbed his hands with delight. He had been surprised that the girl had even _ found _ the hidden entrance to his secret chamber, and even more surprised that she had looked at all within it curiously, rather than running screaming from the room or fainting in shock. When she took two of the pleasure manuals with her and returned to her chamber, he reassessed his original conception of her. 

Was she truly an innocent? What innocent girl would have been able to look at the statue that showed himself and three of his clones pleasuring a woman and not even blush?

When she had bent over the restraining bench, he felt his chest seize. Her backside was facing him, and he imagined how she would look manacled into the thing, naked, her slit spread wide and waiting for him to fill it.

He magically moved himself from that secret space behind the wall to another, behind a wall in the chamber where the girl now sat, reading the pleasure manual. A hole in the wall obscured by a painting of a peacock in vivid greens and blues provided him with a perfect view of her.

She read the manual for a short time, then laid it down and picked up the other. She looked at the drawings, then put that book back down and picked up the first again. It seemed she was trying to match the words with the pictures, to give her an idea of how to accomplish the acts described and depicted.

Finally, she put the books aside and began to disrobe. She stripped down to a worn set of stays and pantalettes. He would have to remedy her sparse and threadbare wardrobe as soon as possible. Her body was too attractive to be clad in rags. He wanted to be able to hear the swish of silk when she walked, so he could imagine that sound being made when he ripped it off of her. After hanging her dress, braiding her hair for sleep, and washing her delicate face, she had climbed onto the enormous bed and taken up the books again.

Loki loved that bed. He had directed its making and supervised it very closely to ensure that it had everything he desired, and was big enough to accommodate whomever, or whatever, he brought into it. This had been his own chamber for many years, but when the girl came, he decided to make it hers. There were two reasons. First, he wanted her to sleep in the bed where he had taken so many lovers. Sex, like any other act of emotion, generated power, magic, that could be felt and manipulated by sensitive beings. Even Midgardians, who could neither feel nor use that power sensed it on a deep level. In a more mundane manipulation of her senses, the bed  _ smelled _ like him. He had slept in it for over a century now, and the entire furnishing was permeated with his physical and magical essences. The presence of his sexual energy combined with his scent would attune and sensitize her to him.

Second, the room had the best vantage points to spy on those inside of all the chambers. From his place behind the peacock painting, he could see the entire room, and especially the bed, which was directly across from him.

His patience was rewarded when she eventually reached a tentative hand inside her pantalettes and began to stroke herself. He couldn’t see her actions well, covered as she was by the fabric, but he imagined how her pink lips would look as her fingers massaged her cunt. He wished he could be on the bed with her, his own fingers invading her, plunging into her depths and making her cry out in pleasure. Taking his cock in hand, he stroked himself slowly, enjoying the show. 

She moved her fingers faster, now laying the book aside, and closed her eyes. He was thrilled. She looked so beautiful! 

Then, she stopped and removed her hand.

She had not come to completion; he could tell. For what reason she had ceased he did not know, but she sat up and carefully took both books, closing them, and hid them in a fold of the bed’s canopy where the fabric bunched up. With that, she snuffed out her candle and lay down to sleep. Behind the wall, Loki closed his eyes and imagined how she might have looked if she had come. With that in mind, he brought himself off, shooting thick ropes of his seed onto the back of the wall.


	5. Saturday, 23 October, 1830 - Wednesday, 3 November, 1830

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella meets the old man she is supposed to be nurse and companion to. Loki fucks a chambermaid. Ella gets new dresses, and she tells Loki a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: mild bondage, sex furniture, mention of S&M, oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering

The next day, a housemaid awakened Ella early. Mr. Viridian would be meeting with her for breakfast to discuss her role as his nurse. Ella rose and washed, and put on her best dress. She was shown to the dining room where an array of food was laid out on the sideboard. She took a little porridge and some fruit, and sat down in the chair the footman attending the room pulled out for her.

Within a few minutes, the door of the room opened and an elderly man, green-eyed, white-haired, and bent with age hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on a carved stick. He walked to the head of the table, just next to where Ella sat, and lowered himself into the chair with a deep groan.

“Oohhhh my old bones are not what they once were. Good morning. You must be Miss Merriweather. I am Mr. Viridian. You are to be my nurse. And what makes you believe you are qualified to be my nurse, or that I even need a nurse? Hmm?”

Ella was taken aback slightly by Mr. Viridian’s obstreperous tone. Her first instinct was to apologize and take her leave of him, and the house, immediately. Then, she realized that if the younger Mr. Viridian had hired her to tend to his father, he, at least, believed her ministrations to be of some possible use, even if the elder Mr. Viridian did not agree. She was also insulted at his tone, which implied she did not belong there. As she had clearly been invited, this spurred her to anger.

“Good morning, Mr. Viridian. I believe I _may be_ qualified to be your nurse because for these eleven years gone, I have nursed my father, whose health failed him when he was still a young man. From the age of seven years until just under a fortnight ago, I was his sole caregiver, tending to him in all weathers and seasons, as well as keeping the house. I have already made it plain to the younger Mr. Viridian, through the agent Mr. Lyme, that should I or you find myself unsuited to the task, I shall remove from Thornwood Hall at once.”

Ella was growing more angry by the moment, but she could not say why. She only knew that the heat was rising in her blood and it made her want to shout and tear at her hair.

“Furthermore, you may not believe you need a nurse, and you may be correct. But the younger Mr. Viridian asked me to tend to you, and tend to you I shall, until I am dismissed, or until such time as I believe myself unable to care for you.”

Oh. Her breath caught in her throat. She realized she had just unleashed an angry tirade on an elderly man, in whose employ she was supposed to be. She was certain to be dismissed this very instant.

Mr. Viridian peered at her sharply for a moment, and then, to Ella’s surprise, burst into a deep, throaty laughter that made his chest shake.

“Oh young woman, I believe we are going to get along very well indeed,” he said.

“I...I certainly hope we do,” she answered. She felt she should do something kind to make up for the harshness of her words. “Would you care for something from the sideboard? I can bring it to you.”

“No thank you, my dear. Please finish your porridge and meet me in the morning room. We shall discuss my ‘care’ at length.”

He pushed himself up and left the room. Ella finished eating her breakfast.

The morning room proved to be the same where she had been given tea the day before. Having only seen it in the afternoon, she realized now that she had not been treated to its full glory, as it was designed to capture the morning sun. Mr. Viridian was seated on a chair, facing the windows. The sun illuminating him made him look much younger, and he suddenly reminded Ella of someone, but she could not have said who.

“I rise early and go to bed early. I expect you to be awake before I rise, so that you are ready to receive me when I am prepared to begin my day. I never take breakfast or any other meal in the dining room. My man will bring me meals in my rooms, which I prefer to eat alone, though I may have tea with you from time to time. I go on walks through the garden most mornings that the weather is fine. Do you read? Aloud, I mean?”

“Yes, sir. I read to my father often. In his last years, he had not the strength to read for himself.”

“I will expect you to read to me every day. You have already found some of our books, I noticed.”

Ella stilled herself in shock. How could he know? Had she been seen with the books she had taken from the strange room the night before? Had a maid found them in the place Ella thought she had hidden them so cleverly?

“I...I found some books, yes.”

“You did not see me, but I was near the library yesterday when you were exploring. I saw you examining my several volumes of Milton.”

Ella sighed inwardly with relief. He had only seen her in the library, not in the hidden room, and not with the delicious books that had so entertained her until the wee hours of the morning, reading by candlelight.

“Yes. I have heard of Milton, but as we had no copies of our own, I had to be content with my father’s explanations of his works.”

“Well, you may read those, whenever you choose, as well as any others. I should say that _any_ book you find in this house is yours to peruse at your _pleasure_.”

His smile was slightly mischievous, and she again feared he knew her secret. Before she could panic, he continued.

“So. We shall walk in the morning and read in the afternoon. You may take your meals in the dining room during the time I have absented myself for my own meals, and you may have the time in the evening after I retire for yourself and whatever _delights_ you wish to _indulge_ in.”

Again, his suggestive tone. His mischievous hint of a smile. Before she could decide what to think of that, he continued.

“That only leaves the state of your wardrobe. These clothes of yours must be removed at once.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said these clothes of yours must be replaced at once,” he said.

She could have sworn that was not what he said the first time.

“Is aught wrong with my wardrobe?” she asked, looking down to examine the gown she was wearing. It was her best, of the three she owned.

“I do not mean to shame you, my dear, but I am too old to wait on congeniality, so I will speak truthfully and hope you do not take offense. For your entire short life, you have been poor. Poorer even than most of the poor. You likely knew not how poor you were, as your father sequestered you for a decade, and you have had little opportunity to see or experience the finer material pleasures of the world. As such, your penniless little vicar of a father had not the means to provide you with clothes befitting a beautiful young woman. Though your standing is not high in and of yourself, you now accompany _me_ , and I will see that my companion is clad and shod in a manner that befits a girl who would stand at my side. I will not have society believe I have employed a caretaker and then kept her in such penury that she does not have gowns that accentuate her loveliness.”

Twice in the same breath he had said she was pretty, and she flushed and looked at her hands, clasped in her lap. She had never before been told that she was, and she was surprised to hear it.

In fact, Ella was not merely pretty. She was exquisitely beautiful. Neither at Rose Cottage nor among her personal effects was there such a thing as a looking glass, so the only glimpses of herself Ella had ever seen were her reflections in clear pools and becalmed streams. Her father, seeing her only with a father’s eyes, saw her as a child, always, and never remarked on how she looked. If he had been asked, though, he would have said she was beautiful, for she strongly echoed her mother, whom he believed to be the most sublime member of her sex to ever grace the earth. Ella rarely went to the village, except to market, and most of those days she only talked to women, none of whom had mentioned it. A young man might have told her, but she had met few enough men, and none at all who were younger than late middle-age, save for the man on the black horse.

Mr. Viridian continued without interruption.

“To that end, I have written to London for a clothier. Someone will be arriving in the next few days to take your measurements, and then your clothes will be sewn and sent. You will receive new shoes as well, as the cobbler in Swarthorpe is skilled and I have employed him to come here this very day and fit you.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said shyly. “I am grateful for your generosity.”

He patted her hand in what Ella might have recognized as a grandfatherly way, had she ever known a grandfather.

 

Loki was feeling anything but grandfatherly later that afternoon. He had changed back into his own form after the “old man” retired to an early bed, and summoned Marie, the chambermaid. His servants were all mortals, paid and taken care of like any normal servants, but also bespelled so they could not share the secrets of his house with outsiders. Marie had been a favorite of his for some time. The girl was talented. He had found her in a brothel in Paris years before, and when he offered her a place at Thornwood Hall, on the terms that she clean by day and come to his bed occasionally, when he had need of her, she had been all too eager to please. The day he brought her to England on a boat, she had told him he was a good deal kinder and a great deal cleaner than her usual clients, and she was always satisfied at the end of their trysts. He had rewarded her flattery, though he could tell she was not even lying, by making her scream in pleasure the entire trip from Calais to Dover.

When Marie arrived at his room, he cast an illusion on her that changed her appearance.

“Disrobe for me,” he said, and she began to remove her clothing, slowly and seductively, giving out little moans, just as she knew he liked. He watched, cock in hand, stroking himself languidly.

“Put that dress on,” he ordered. There was a dress laying on the bed. Marie wrinkled her nose a little at having to wear something so plain, but Loki narrowed his eyes the slightest amount when she began to balk, and she complied with a smile. When she was clothed, he stood and circled her slowly, to make sure she was a perfect copy from all angles. Satisfied that she was, he put his arms around her and transported both of them into the secret chamber.

He led her to the restraining bench and positioned her legs. He wrapped her ankles with a soft cloth—it was not his intention to harm her permanently, after all—and buckled them into the manacles. On the other side of the bench, he pulled her down, stretching her body across the bench tightly, but not uncomfortably. He wrapped her wrists just as he had her ankles and buckled them into the manacles on that side. Bound and bent, he spent several minutes just looking at her. Flicking his hand, a sharp knife appeared there.

“Hold still, lovely one. It’s time for me to help you undress.”

He watched as Marie relaxed and stilled herself. She had no fear of him. In the years she had spent with him, he had never hurt her, unless that was the intent of the evening, and even then, he gave her the choice of whether or not to participate, and the freedom to stop it at any time it became too much for her to bear.

He grasped the hem of the dress and lifted it over her head so she was exposed from the waist down. He slid the knife gently up her leg, pressing against, but not piercing her skin. When he reached her underthings, he cut them off with an expert hand and vanished the knife. Next, he ran his hands along her thighs, feeling the silky smoothness of them under his fingers. He moved up to her buttocks, pushing them together and pulling them apart again, enjoying the way it felt under his hands.

The illusion extended to all senses, but was one-sided. To herself, Marie’s body looked and felt like her own. But to him, she looked like the girl he craved, the one who was, at that very moment, downstairs being measured for shoes by a cobbler.

He had to guess what her lovely cunt looked like. He had imagined it pink and fresh, soft folds barely peeking out of her lips. From this angle, with her legs spread wide, her slit gaping at him, he could see the contrast between her pale skin and her majestic, rose-colored interior. He licked her there experimentally and the girl shuddered, thighs quivering at his touch. After a few more licks, he dove into her fully, flicking his tongue across her hard nub, then circling it and sucking it into his mouth. He worked his way back to her slit again and fucked her with his tongue, relishing the gasps and moans she was making for him. He moved back to her clit and repeated his motions, flicking, swirling, and sucking until her breathing started to become shallow. He could tell she was getting closer. He pushed his fingers inside her, curving them downward toward her front wall to find the place inside that made women shriek.

When he found it, he pressed against her and rubbed back and forth while he continued to suck her clit into his mouth, holding it there now, and flicking his tongue across it while it was inside. She was making moaning grunts, breathing in gasps, and a moment later she cried out, her pleasure overwhelming her and fluid squirting out around his fingers and dripping down his hand.

Without giving her any pause, he stood and thrust his cock into her, burying himself to the hilt in one motion. He grasped the edge of the bench and leaned into her, sliding his hips and plunging in and out of her at a frenetic pace. Laying his body down over hers, he pulled the skirt of her dress back from where it had fallen over head so he could see the side of her face.

“Call out to me,” he said.

“Loki,” she moaned. “My sweet master, Loki. Fuck me. Take me!”

He closed his eyes and pushed the wadded fabric of the dress under his nose, inhaling the scent of her, embedded into the cloth of a garment she had worn so many times.

“Tell me you want me,” he moaned, his voice breaking and cracking with need.

“I want you! I want you Loki!” she cried.

He felt his orgasm coming forth and he exploded, filling her with his seed. He kept thrusting when he was done, grinding his hips into her so that her clit bumped against the edge of the bench. A moment later, she came again, her walls clenching and quivering around his cock.

He released her and massaged her wrists and ankles, rubbing the feeling back into them. He took her in his arms and teleported her directly to her own room, stripped Ella’s dress off of her, and vanished, leaving the exhausted Marie naked and panting on her own bed.

 

As Mr. Viridian had said, the cobbler came that same afternoon and measured Ella’s feet. Two days after, three women—one young, one old, and one middle-aged—arrived in a carriage who measured her all over, making marks and notations. They looked through all the clothing she currently possessed and made tsking noises, shaking their heads. They departed soon after in their carriage, after assuring her that the items they were sewing for her would arrive in a fortnight. That would have seemed a very short time to make even a single gown, had Ella known anything about how long gowns took to be sewn. She did not, and thereby did not question this pronouncement.

Several other things occurred at the same time. Mrs. Greene told Ella she was welcome to use the copper tub in the bath as often as she liked, and she showed the girl how to draw hot water and cold into the tub. For the first time since she was very small, and had bathed in a wash tub at the vicarage, Ella was able to bathe completely submerged, instead of washing her body with a cloth and her hair under a cold pump.

A mirror was brought and placed above the dressing table where there had not been one before. Mrs. Greene said that the chamber now occupied by Ella had been vacant for some time, and the last person who inhabited it cared not for mirrors and had asked that it be carried away. It was in this looking glass that Ella saw herself for the first time, and wondered what it was that made Mr. Viridian say she was beautiful. To herself, she looked like an ordinary girl.

True to the clothiers’ word, a fortnight later a carriage arrived and the footmen portered into the house a large number of cases, which, when unpacked, proved to have a collection of the most beautiful things Ella had ever seen.

There were dresses—so very _many_ dresses. They were ornate creations with long skirts and detailed beading and embroidery. There were three in blue, one in golden yellow, one in bright yellow, two in black, five in white, three in rose, three in russett, and eleven in the same dark green as her chamber. The same color as the man in the orchard had worn. There were plenty of underthings as well, for the clothiers had been dismayed to find that she had but one set of stays, only three pair of pantalettes, and no chemises or petticoats at all.

One of the green dresses was made of velvet that draped over her hand like water. Many of the others...

“Mrs. Greene, what manner of fabric are these dresses? It is neither muslin nor organdy. It is the same as that of the bedsheets.”

The housekeeper pursed her lips, as if trying to keep something behind them that wanted to get out.

“You poor dear child. Have you never seen silk?”

Ella’s face brightened. So this was silk! She had heard of it, of course. Her father often said her mother’s wedding gown was silk, but it had been given to the poor after her mother died. Her father hadn’t thought to keep it for Ella until much later, by which time it was far too late to recover it.

Ella ran her hand across one of the green gowns, enraptured with the way her hand felt as it slid over the surface.

“No. I have not. I certainly have enough of it now, though,” she said. “I feel overwhelmed, Mrs. Greene. As if there is too much joy in me to be contained. I am afraid I am being quite sinful, indulging in this outfitting. I have but one body, and thirty dresses. It seems an excess.”

“Oh, tish,” said Mrs. Greene. “You’re a lovely young girl and you need dresses. Mr. Viridian wanted you outfitted, so outfitted you are. If they are more numerous, elaborate, and ornate than you had expected, that is more due to your previous life of seclusion and privation of worldly goods than to an excess of dresses. I assure you that fashionable young ladies in London would not think this too much.”

Ella was not entirely mollified, and she made sure to be very effusive in her thanks to Mr. Viridian when she saw him next. Within the week, more things arrived for her, from the cobbler’s wares, which were six pair of soft slippers and three pair of boots, to some outerwear, including three coats, five hats, and one parasol in each color of dress she had received.

 

The next days were very simple for Ella. She rose early and breakfasted before Mr. Viridian rose. If the weather was fine enough, they walked in the garden, arm-in-arm. He told her many stories of how the garden and house were built. One day, they were on the south side of the house when Ella decided to ask about something that she had wanted to ask for a long while.

“Mr. Viridian, what story do the carvings on the frieze come from? I...I have an idea what the pictures might mean, but I wondered if I could read the original…”

Ella broke off speaking because Mr. Viridian had stopped walking entirely, and was staring at her with wide eyes registering shock at her question.

“What carvings?” he asked.

Ella faltered. Was his eyesight so poor?

“Above, just there,” she said, pointing. “If you begin in the middle of this side of the house, they form a story. I...I used to come here secretly as a child and walk about the grounds and play. I did not mean any harm by it, and I beg your pardon if it was wrong, but I saw the marks and eventually I discerned a kind of story that wraps around the house.

Mr. Viridian was silent for a long moment, and Ella thought he might be angry at her for her childhood tresspasses.

“Please tell me this story you see,” he finally said, quietly.

Ella began to tell him the story of the handsome warrior prince as she imagined it, leading him all the way around the building, until they returned to their starting point.

“And here, in the last etching, you can see that the prince came to earth and built Thornwood Hall.”

She had been looking at the frieze the entire time she had walked him about, but now she turned and saw his face.

Copious tears were flowing down his cheeks, and his green eyes had reddened with the strain of his display of emotion.

“Oh! Mr. Viridian, are you quite well?” she asked. Ella was concerned that he was in some unimaginable pain, as she had never seen a man cry.

“I am fine, my dear,” he said softly. “In all the years I have lived here, no one has ever noticed the carvings there. They are meant to be hidden and secret. That you see them, and more, that the story you’ve constructed about your ‘handsome warrior prince’ shows him to be the hero of the tale means that I have greatly misjudged your character.”

Ella could not fathom what he meant by that.

“My character? What could seeing etchings on a building and making up a story about them have to do with my character?”

“Pay me no mind, my dear,” Mr. Viridian said. He was already shaking off his melancholy. “I am an old man, driven to strange fancies. I only meant that I did not think you had paid so much attention to Thornwood Hall that you would notice something like the frieze.”

“I always paid the utmost attention to it. It’s the most beautiful house I have ever seen,” she said. “I have always loved it. When I was a girl, and we first came here, I was asleep in the carriage that brought us. I woke when we crossed the little stone bridge, and as I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the cream-colored stone of this house. While my father discussed the letting of Rose Cottage with the agent, I looked up, past the place where the vines stop, and saw what seemed to be faint lines there, and they intrigued me. As I grew older, and I tried harder to discover what the lines were, what they meant, they became deeper. Of course, they didn’t _really_ , of course. That would be almost like magic! My perception of them changed as I studied them, though. Eventually I was able to see the carvings clearly, and then I pieced together the story as I imagined it must be.”

Mr. Viridian nodded and patted her hand.

“That’s a good girl,” he said. “You’re very clever. Beautiful and clever. Whatever shall we do with you, El—Miss Merriweather.”

She was so taken aback that he had said she was beautiful again that she missed entirely his near slip where he had almost called her by her given name.


	6. Thursday, 4 November - Tuesday, 23 November, 1830

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki grows a conscience. Ella has wet dreams. They debate the existence of love. Loki decides to throw a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: very mild smut, oral sex, vaginal sex

Loki had been wracked with a crisis of...of...no. There was no other word for it.  _ Conscience _ . The girl had surprised him greatly when she asked about the carved frieze. The story depicted there was a story of him, as told in the legends of the people who had worshiped him and his kind as gods a thousand years before. In their version, he was a villainous brute, bringing Baldur—a supposed son of Odin, though the real Odin had no sons but himself and Thor—to his death with a dart of mistletoe, then engaging in a flyting with the other gods until he had angered even the most level-headed of them, Sif, into casting him out. They had then taken the entrails of his son and bound him under the roots of Yggdrasil until Ragnarok should come and free him for his final death. The tale even claimed he had a wife who stayed below with him—as if Loki would ever take a wife! 

Loki found the tale amusing, so he had carved the story into the band of stone around the house. Instead of ending it at Ragnarok, where he supposedly died, he had drawn it as if he sprung up from death and came here to build Thornwood. 

He had been mildly surprised when she had found the hidden door to his carnal pleasures room, which she should also not have been able to sense, but  _ this  _ was astounding. As a mortal, a mere Midgardian, she should not even be able to  _ see  _ the carvings, much less interpret them. To mortals, the frieze should appear as a band of unadorned stone. Even most creatures that could control magic would only see it as a series of indistinct scratches that could have been natural formations of the stone. It was meant to be an amusement for himself alone, and he had enchanted it to keep it private.

There was clearly more to this girl than met the eye. That blazing intelligence he had seen in her eyes from the first moment, her sharp tongue and stubborn countenance—all marked her as something special, but being able to detect things magically hidden hinted at a deeper truth. Perhaps she was not entirely Midgardian? Perhaps some Aesir blood had entered her veins through some dalliance of one of his kind with a mortal in a past generation? For whatever reason, the girl could detect things she should not be able to, and that intrigued him. Beyond her awareness of the carvings, though, was another surprise. 

As she had told him her imagined fairy tale about himself, she had spoken of him as if he was the hero of the tale. He was her handsome warrior prince, noble and honest. He was the strong leader of his people who was betrayed by Odin and his wicked brethren. She spoke of her story-prince with so much love and devotion that it had moved him to tears. Never, in all his centuries, had anyone described him thus, not even those who had worshiped him as a god. They worshiped him as a liar, a trickster, a knave—never as a hero. He felt something blossoming inside of him that superseded his carnal desires. Looking upon her, standing in the weak English sunlight of a crisp autumn afternoon, he had suddenly realized that she was no base whore to be used for his pleasure, but a radiant creature of joyful youth. Her interest in the sculptures and books in the carnal room were not the explorations of a wanton tart, but merely the curiosity of a young woman, raised in isolation by a religious man who likely never told her anything about mankind’s most natural and animal urges, except perhaps to tell her to shun them if she ever found herself in their thrall.  

She was, simply, too pure for him. Her ruination would be an unforgivable crime.

In the moment of his realization, he abandoned all thought of seduction. He should provide this girl with a fine life fit for a mortal princess, and as soon as possible, he should remove her from his sight, so he would not be tempted again to sate his lust between her sweet thighs.

 

Ella continued exploring the books she had found in the hidden room, but she made no further attempts to touch herself. It had felt good, yes, but she didn’t see the point of continuing once she had determined that simple pleasure was the use of it. It was like scratching an itch, but the longer one continued to scratch, the more the itch kept on itching. The books spoke of a “release,” but she had no idea what they meant. She never felt anything she would term as such. During her waking hours, she kept her hands to herself.

Her dreams, however, were a different matter.

She had returned to the secret room several times since the first, replacing the books she had borrowed and bringing others back in their stead. One of them contained drawings of the male body, so she now knew that the “phallus” referred to in the book about how to pleasure a woman was the appendage she had seen between the legs of the statues. It was the same organ as the ones she had seen hanging limp and quiet on museum statues, but when the man’s passions became inflamed, the book said, the organ grew in size and strength, so that it could be used to plumb the depths of the woman’s body. 

When she dreamt, it was always of the man on the black horse. One night, she had awoken in her bed, sure someone was in the room. Lighting her bedside candle, she had seen the object of her desire standing at the end of the bed. She beckoned to him, and he crawled onto the bed with her. He kissed her, pushing his hands into her hair and pushing his tongue into her open mouth. She had torn at his green shirt, trying to remove it, until he had pushed her gently back and removed it himself. Then, he pushed her dress up and dipped his head to the place between her thighs. He kissed and licked her there, making her feel wonderful. 

She had not realized she was dreaming until she awoke to find that there was a large quantity of fluid covering her maidenhood and seeping into the bed below her. At first she was terribly embarrassed because she thought she had made water in the bed, but the fluid was slick and silken. Tentatively, she tasted it and found it sweet.

Other times, she dreamt he took her clothes off as well, and pushed into her, as the statues in the secret room did. She could not really imagine what it would feel like, so one morning when she woke early after such a dream, she pushed a tentative finger inside her orifice. Her walls pushed against it strongly, and she wondered how a man could ever put something as large as the thing the statues had inside of her.

Her nights continued like that for the rest of November, and each time she learned of a new act, she dreamt of performing it with her imaginary lover from the orchard. When she read of how to pleasure a man with her mouth, she imagined her green-clad lover sprawled in the chair near her window, clothed except for his member, which he had removed from the front of his breeches. She knelt in front of him, tasting him and moving her mouth and tongue over his form just as the book showed. Would he touch her? Would he simply throw his head back and remain unmoving? Would he grasp her hair and thrust his hips, pushing into her mouth until he shot forth the white fluid that all the drawings showed?

Each dream left her soaked with sweat, and sometimes with the other fluid as well, and she woke each morning exhausted from the exertion of her nights.

Her days were spent with Mr. Viridian, reading to him and walking with him. When the weather grew too cold and wet for their walks in the garden, he taught Ella to play chess. When he discovered that although she could do sums, her knowledge of any higher mathematics was lacking, he began to teach her that as well, beginning with Euclid and proceeding through all the Greek scholars. He taught her about natural science, and the discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton, and a German scholar named Leibnitz. She read many tomes of philosophy at his urging. After she read  _ The Prince  _ by Machiavelli, they engaged in a spirited debate about whether it was better to be loved or feared. Mr. Viridian argued for fear, and Ella for love. 

“Love as most describe it doesn’t even exist, in truth,” argued Mr. Viridian. “Love is a fickle mistress, and it is only a feeling, an emotion. It can be conjured at will and sent away just as rapidly with no more effort than one would take to wash one’s hands. Fear, on the other hand, is consistent. Once the means of instilling fear is discovered, it may be used to bind those one wishes to control with no further effort than the threat of whatever is feared.”

“I disagree, Mr. Viridian,” Ella argued. “Love certainly exists. Mothers and fathers love their children, and children love their parents. Brothers and sisters love one another. Dear friends may love one another. Husbands and wives are said to love one another as well, although I have had little chance to observe that.”

“Did not your mother and father love one another?” he snapped.

“My mother died when I was still a babe,” she said. “My father had to foster me with a parishioner whose child had died as a wet nurse until I was weaned. Though I believe my mother and father loved each other very deeply, I was never present to see its effect.”

“I...I am sorry child,” he said. They both lapsed into a short silence, but Ella soon broke it to make the next part of her argument.

“Love is better than fear, for in fear, one might sacrifice oneself, unwillingly, to avoid more pain, but in love, one would sacrifice oneself willingly,  _ despite _ the pain, to protect that love. Love can also not be, as you said ‘conjured’ and ‘sent away’ at will. Love is not a conscious action.”

“Is it not?”

“It cannot be.”

“Why?”

“If one were to love something one could not have, something that was gone forever from one’s sight, it would be easier to cease to love it than to suffer under the weight of grief at the loss of love. And yet, people suffer in grief all the time. Would any willingly choose to do so if they could abandon love and be free of grief?”

He considered this.

“Have you ever loved, Miss Merriweather?”

“I...I certainly loved my father.”

“That is not what I mean,” said Mr. Viridian. “I meant the kind of love felt by...by a husband and wife. If you have not loved and lost, how can you know the weight of that grief?”

“I watched my father, until the last day of his life, show the same devotion to my mother’s memory that I believe he would have displayed to her person were she alive. And I...that is I…” she thought again of the man on the black horse. For some time now, she had been unable to dislodge him from her mind. Each night she still dreamt of him, and each day she found herself often distracted with thoughts of him. She could close her eyes and hear his voice, feel his arms around her as he had held her on the horse in front of him. Such thoughts filled her with a longing she could not describe.

“If I were to love someone,” she said carefully, for she did not wish to lie, but neither did she wish to reveal all the truth, “and that person was parted from me, never to return, I believe I would feel a...a hollowing. An emptiness that ached in the core of my being and echoed with sadness.”

Mr. Viridian looked at her thoughtfully. 

“I believe it is time to throw a ball at Thornwood Hall.”

“A ball? Whatever for?”

“Because, Miss Merriweather, it is high time we should introduce you to some young men who might court you.”

Ella thought he must surely be joking. 

“I have no thoughts of marriage,” she said. 

“That is as may be, but even if you do not wish to be married yet, you are young and you should have the chance to meet young people your own age instead of debating philosophy and playing chess with a dotard.”

“Mr. Viridian!” she said, “You are a delightful debate partner and games adversary. I never tire of your company.”

“Nevertheless, there has not been a Christmas ball at Thornwood Hall in...oh about a century I suppose. I think it is time we reinstate that tradition.”


	7. Wednesday, 24 November, 1830 - Tuesday 21 December, 1830

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella learns to dance. Is Loki falling in love? Will Ella marry someone else? These seamstresses sure seem to know a lot about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: mention of possible sex with animals (that's how he got Sleipnir)

The clothiers were sent for again, this time to create a ball gown. When Mr. Viridian discovered Ella did not know how to perform even the simplest of dances, he hired a dancing master from Bristol who stayed for two weeks at Thornwood Hall. The dancing master led her through the waltz, quadrille, and polonaise, and at Mr. Viridian’s insistence, the minuet, though the dancing master insisted it was old-fashioned and hardly anyone ever danced it any more. He proclaimed that Ella was a natural talent at dance, for she was a great deal more nimble and strong than other girls he had taught. Ella attributed this to having tended the cottage, garden, and orchard for nearly all her life. 

As there was no lady at Thornwood Hall, Loki called upon an old acquaintance of his, Mrs. Pemberlaine, to organize the affair. In her youth, Mrs. Pemberlaine had been one of his lovers, and was one of the only mortals not in his direct employ entrusted with his secrets, or at least a few of them. From her home in Cheltenham she hired musicians, organized the feast, sent out invitations, and collected all the replies. The story she seeded through her network of gossip and suggestion was, like all good lies, at least half truth. Miss Merriweather was an orphan who had been taken into Thornwood by Mr. Viridian, who had taken her as his ward and settled on her an undisclosed sum for her income, which she would receive when she reached the age of twenty-five, or younger, should she marry. Mrs. Pemberlaine never proffered an amount for the income settled on the girl, but it was understood by all that it was a very great sum, and any man would be foolish to not at least consider her. Mrs. Pemberlaine knew that as soon as they saw the beautiful girl, many of them would want her for herself alone, but the possible lure of thousands of pounds’ worth of annuities would get even the most cynical of them in the door. 

The ball was set for the twenty-first. A week before, Mrs. Pemberlaine arrived at Thornwood with her maids and footmen to finish the details. After she had been introduced to Ella and the young girl had been whisked away to her chamber so that the maids could practice dressing her hair and determining which style would suit her best for the ball, Mr. Viridian and Mrs. Pemberlaine sat down to tea in the library.

“Loki, what nefarious deeds are you planning for this girl?” she asked.

“Why, Agnes,” he said coyly, “whatever makes you think my intentions are not honorable when it comes to the young Miss Merriweather?” He smirked at his former paramour over his cup.

“Hmm. Perhaps because in the four decades I have known you, you would never have let a morsel that sweet go without tasting for an hour, much less days or weeks. And yet, I have it from the servants that the girl has been living here for  _ months _ , but I can see you have not claimed her yet. Has she some hidden defect or disease that has put you off?”

He chuckled. 

“As always, Agnes, you know me too well. I did set out to seduce the girl, but for reasons of my own, I thought better of it. She is quite pure, and delightful. Unlike most of your kind, she is as beautiful inside as she is without. I desire to host this ball so that hopefully some young Midgardian male will take notice of her and make her his wife. He should spirit her away from this old pile of rocks and the devil who owns it, and settle her in a fine house somewhere where she can make pies and babies. Let some other be the one to commit the transgression of defiling something so pure. It should not be me.”

Mrs. Pemberlaine looked at him sharply. She had never heard of Loki striving to preserve the innocence of any girl of an age to be considered for his bed. In her time with him, he had made love to women, men, and she believed he had even taken his pleasure of some animals. Is that not where the great black horse he rode came from? The only creatures he seemed to hold in regard as non-sexual beings were children. Anyone who had reached their maturity, however, was a fair conquest. The tone in his voice when he spoke of Ella was almost reverential. If she hadn’t known him so well, Agnes might have thought he was a man in love. Of course, that was ridiculous. He was Loki the Wise, Loki the Sly, Loki the Cunning. He was the God of Mischief, Smith of Lies, Father of Serpents, Master of Carnal Pleasures, and Thief of Hearts. 

Loki did  _ not _ fall in love. Others fell in love with  _ him _ , and he used and discarded them at his whim.

“I have invited a large number of eligible young men to the ball,” she said. “The girl is exquisite, and I have no doubt the young gentlemen will be ready to duel one another over her hand by morning.”

“Good, good,” he said. “She is indeed charming. Perhaps the most alluring girl I have ever seen. So sweet, kind, intelligent. She has the capacity for so much love and forgiveness. The sooner she is gone...the sooner I can forget her.”

His former paramour said nothing in return, the wistfulness in his voice when he spoke of Ella having shocked her into uncharacteristic silence.

 

Ella was excited for the ball in spite of herself. She had spent nearly every day of the weeks since Mr. Viridian had announced his intention to host the fete in apprehension, but then it occurred to her that the man on the black horse might be one of the guests. The day she had seen him in the orchard, he had not been dressed for long travel, wearing only a riding jacket, not a heavy coat, despite the crispness of the day. His horse was neither winded nor lathered, so she surmised he had come not very far on that morning’s ride. That suggested he lived in the area, and since his manner and dress indicated he was likely a gentleman of some means, she felt sure he would be someone to whom Mrs. Pemberlaine would have extended an invitation.

If she could only meet him again, hear his voice again, and look into those deep green eyes, she felt the hollow pit inside her should be filled. The only thing left to do was prepare for the ball and wait for the fated day.

She had enjoyed the dance lessons, but one tedious and embarrassing event while she waited for her debut was the ball gown fitting. She already had numerous dresses, so she protested that she could choose from one of those to wear to the ball. Having yet another, even more elaborate dress made her feel decadent and wasteful. The trio of seamstresses, whom she had since learned were named Miss  Skuld, Mrs. Urd, and Widow Verdandi, told her it would not be good enough for her to wear one of the gowns she already had, as Mr. Viridian had insisted  _ specifically _ that she be given a new gown for this ball. Ella relented and let them fit the muslin to her in peace. When they finished and made to leave, she asked what color the dress would be.

“I think pink,” said Miss Skuld.

“Oh no, pink is too bashful,” said Mrs. Urd. “Let’s give her a nice, bold blue.”

“Black is dramatic and delightful for any occasion,” said Widow Verdandi.

“Would you...would you make it in green?” Ella asked. “This green,” she added, indicating the velvet coverlet on her bed that so greatly reminded her of the velvet coat her dream lover had worn.

The three seamstresses exchanged enigmatic looks with each other.

“Are you certain, my dear?” asked Mrs. Urd.

“I am quite certain,” Ella said.

“Very well, green it shall be,” said Widow Verdandi with a small sigh.

As the three swept out of the room, Ella heard them exchanging gossip about someone. She was going downstairs behind them, trying not to eavesdrop, but they were talking loudly and not far ahead of her.

“He surely is taking his time, isn’t he?” said Widow Verdandi. “I’m starting to think he’s never going to get around to it.”

“If is meant to come to pass, it will,” said Mrs. Urd. 

“All the same, he’d better stop his slumbering through life soon or I shall be happy to give him a bash on the side of his thick skull to wake him,” said Widow Verdandi. 

“If he wants to make her his, it’s for him to do in his own time, not ours,” said Mrs. Urd.

“She is  _ already _ his,” said Miss Skuld. “What remains to be seen is if he will become hers.”

“That much is clear,” said Widow Verdandi. “Why do you think I’m so incensed that he hasn’t done anything about it?”

“Does it really matter in the great scheme of things?” asked Miss Skuld.

“Absolutely,” said Mrs. Urd. “If he doesn’t have this now, he won’t be prepared in the future. If he’s not prepared when the time comes, he may fail. His failure to save the  _ other _ girl will destroy the brother, and when _ that one _ falls, nothing will be strong enough to stand against the Titan. There will be others who will try, but without the actions of the brothers, even I cannot see a way to defeat the monster.”

“What others?” asked Miss Skuld.

“The iron knight. The assassin. The archer,” said Mrs. Urd.

“The paladin. The sorcerer. The man with two natures,” said Widow Verdandi.

“And many children,” Mrs. Urd continued. “So many, many children. A boy of spiders. A girl of metal. A witch of wisdom.”

“But the brothers, their actions are key. Without them, the iron knight will fall to his own pride. The paladin will lose faith. The two-natured man will be discarded on an abandoned world. They will all fall,” said Widow Verdandi.

“They will fall, and they will fail,” said Mrs. Urd.

“If that comes to pass, not even we are safe,” said Widow Verdandi.

With that cryptic remark, the three moved too far ahead of her and Ella could no longer hear them.

The ballroom was opened up and aired out in the days before the gala, and new candles were placed in every sconce and chandelier. Ella had only seen the room once, the first day she came to Thornwood, when she had opened the door just long enough to discover what lay inside. She had seen it as a long, dark, empty room with a hard floor. Now, lit up nearly as bright as day, floor and fixtures shining, and with decorative swags hung on the front of the players’ balcony, it was a different chamber entirely. 

It was too cold to open the tall doors that led out onto the garden, so instead, the morning room, card room, library, drawing room, and gallery had all been opened up as well, so that guests could move about at their leisure. Since there were far too many guests to be accommodated in the dining room, the great hall had been set up for dinner instead, with two long tables on each side of the room and a short one across one end, forming a sort of U-shape.

Mrs. Pemberlaine stood with Ella near the ballroom doors to welcome all the guests. Having been the architect of the whole affair, she knew them all, and introduced them to Ella as they arrived.

Each of the young gentlemen seemed entranced by Ella, and she politely spoke to each in turn, but, to Mrs. Pemberlaine’s minor chagrin, she seemed enamoured with none of them. The other young ladies present all seemed cordial enough when being introduced, but Agnes could see out of the corners of her eyes, when they were away from Ella and gathered into their tiny gossipy cliques, they spoke in hushed whispers and sent looks of jealousy at the debutante. 

It was to be expected. A girl as beautiful as Ella was bound to be the scorn of any other girl who tried to garner the affections of the males around her, at least while still unmarried. Agnes herself had nearly had her eye scratched out in her own youth by a jealous rival for Loki’s attention. Ella’s carnet de bal was filled up almost immediately, as each young man had tried to partner her on a dance. Alas, there were only seven dances for the entire affair, so many of the gentlemen were disappointed. 

Ella’s first partner, for the beginning of the minuet, was Lord Arden, the youngest son of the Earl of Swalinford. When he relinquished her to the next partner to complete the minuet, it was Mr. Gabriel, the son of one of the largest landowners in the county. His father’s estate was second only to Thornwood itself in both size and grandeur. The rest of the minuet proceeded with each couple dancing in turn. It was a slow, tedious dance, and anyone fashionable had abandoned it a decade or more earlier, but Loki insisted on it. He said the formality of the dance reminded him of a courtship ritual on Asgard. 

After the minuet, the musicians began the first polonaise. There would be two before the evening was out, two waltzes, and two quadrilles. 

Ella danced the first polonaise with Mr. Huntsfield-Tarley, the first quadrille with Mr. Ellery, and the first waltz with Mr. Marick. There was a lull of a half hour while the musicians and dancers rested. Ella was immediately the center of a large group of gentlemen, and Mrs. Pemberlaine could see that she was wilting under the pressure of so many gazes. 

“Gentlemen,” she said, coming up to the group and putting on her most matronly tone, “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your time with the lovely Miss Merriweather, but as hostess, it is upon me to ensure that she is able to see  _ all _ her guests.” The young gentlemen groaned or laughed, as their demeanor dictated, but they relinquished the girl into her chaperone's care. Agnes led Ella to a quiet corner where the girl could breathe. Mr. Viridian ambled over to them and the two matchmakers shielded the girl for a few moments from the scrutiny of the room.

“You are gaining quite a bit of attention, my dear,” Agnes said. “While that is the desired result, you looked as if you might need a moment to gather your thoughts.”

“Yes, thank you Mrs. Pemberlaine.”

“Have you met anyone tonight who particularly engaged your fancy?”

Ella looked up at Agnes with a startled look in her grey eyes. “No, no one...specific. I...I had hoped…” she looked around the room as if searching for a particular face. 

“Is there someone you thought would be here who is not?” Mr. Viridian asked. 

He caught Agnes’ eye and she immediately knew what he was about. This was an interesting development. If Loki wanted to marry this girl off so quickly, he could do no better than to pair her with a gentleman with whom the girl was already enamoured. 

“It’s not that I expected...someone...to be here. There is one face I hoped I might see, but…”

“Is there a gentleman you are acquainted with to whom we should have extended an invitation?” Agnes asked.

“No, no I…” Ella said shyly. “We are not truly acquainted. I met him only once, and it was some time ago. I doubt he even remembers me, though I can think of little else but him.” 

“My dear, you must only whisper to me his name,” said Agnes. “I am connected to all the best families, and if there is a man for whom you have set your sights, I could certainly arrange that he should come courting.”

Ella shook her head. “I should not want to trouble him.”

“If you change your mind, you have only but to ask,” Mr. Viridian said. “Any young man would be honored to have your hand. Come now, which of these fine gentlemen will you marry?”

“I think perhaps I shall not marry at all,” Ella said. 

Mrs. Pemberlaine gasped. “But my dear, you must!”

“How could I marry one of these,” she gestured to the young gentlemen positioned about the ballroom, “when I find myself always thinking of another?”

“Then tell me his name, and I will bring him here, by force of arms if needs be, and if he is a good man of quality and not some rotten knave, I will compel him to take your hand,” Mr. Viridian said.

“If I knew it, I would give it,” she answered.

Ella smiled shyly and thanked both of them for their hard work on her behalf before returning to the floor to begin the next dance.

The remainder of Ella’s evening consisted of another polonaise with Mr. Borwick, a quadrille with Mr. Cunningham, and her final waltz with Mr. Smithson. Dancing completed, the men retreated to the card room and the ladies to the drawing room until supper was served. 

When all had been eaten and there was nothing left to discuss, the guests departed, congratulating Mrs. Pemberlaine on a successful evening. Each gentleman, especially those who had not been able to secure a dance with Ella, kissed her hand and told her how charmed they were to meet her. Ella thanked her benefactors heartily and went up to bed. 

She did not dream that night, so exhausted from the exertion of the day was she. Nor did she wake when a tall, lithe form entered her room, and standing beside her bed, stroked her pretty, pale cheek gently.

“Sleep well, darling Ella, my beautiful one,” Loki said softly. He let himself out of the room and returned to his own with a heavy heart. 

In his bed in the west wing of the house, he buried his face in Ella’s old dress, the one she had worn the day he first saw her in the orchard. He had taken it, and all her old ragged clothes, when the new wardrobe arrived. Even now, a month after she had last worn it, it retained her scent. He breathed her in as he slumbered, and tears turned to ice on his cheeks.


	8. Sunday, 6 April, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than three years later, Ella still refuses to consider suitors. Loki changes tactics. Ella suffers from grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: none
> 
> Other: Plot. Short chapter.

The weeks after the Christmas ball had brought many suitors, even many who had not even had an opportunity to dance with her, to Thornwood seeking Ella’s favor. She politely declined to see each of them, and asked Mr. Viridian to thank them for their kindness but to turn them away. This worked on all of them except Lord Arden, who attempted to demand that Ella at least meet with him and hear him out before he was turned away. She heard him at the door, arguing with Mr. Viridian, and just as she thought she must be compelled to go down and speak to him, if at least only to convince him to go away and seek the hand of another, Mr. Viridian had said something to him that had made Lord Arden stop arguing and turn, almost mechanically, mount his horse, and ride away. He did not return.

Months went by and Ella spent nearly every day studying with Mr. Viridian. She had advanced her mind greatly throughout the winter, and by spring, she was challenging him in arguments of rhetoric. By her second Christmas at Thornwood, she could beat him at chess two times out of three, to his astonishment. He joked with her that he might resort to cheating, just so he could win more often. He always seemed to beat her at cards, though, and she wondered briefly if he was cheating in that game.

Summer was filled with days where he walked Ella about the garden, teaching her the names of all the flowers. In autumn, she gathered leaves that fell, and they examined a cross section of one under the microscope he had purchased for her birthday, which came packed in a crate from London. He also gave her a telescope, and she spent many hours gazing at the stars while he told her the names of some of them, and the stories behind the constellations, culled from Greek myth. Winter was full of reading and long discussions in front of the roaring fireplace. In the springtime, they spent most of the day outside, Ella reading to him in the quiet garden, or walking the paths of the labyrinth with her holding the arm that did not lean on his stick. One day, as they walked under a wisteria-draped pergola, he broached the question of suitors once again.

“It has been three years and some months since the Christmas ball. Have you thought any more about finding a young man with whom to spend your life?”

“No,” Ella said. “I feel the same as I did before.”

“The man you were thinking of then, does he still possess your thoughts?”

“Every day,” she answered quietly. 

“When did you meet him?”

“Oh, quite long ago. Before I came to Thornwood. Though...sometimes I wonder if he was even real. We met so briefly, I feel that he may have been a flight of fancy. Perhaps I was fevered and I dreamed him.”

“My dear, if you think your perfect beau may not even be real, why not find another, one you can ascertain is indeed real, to fill his place?”

Ella was silent for a long time while she considered how to answer him. 

“I do not believe I could love another while my heart is given to the one I dream of. If I were to engage myself to another, my affection, such as it was, would be false. What good could come of a marriage predicated on a lie? If I loved no one, and I married in an arrangement of mutually-beneficial joining, as some couples do when they have no interest in one another but marry so they may no longer be alone, that would at least be honest. But I would not be a true wife if my self—body, soul, and mind—were still captivated by the man I dream of, the man I fear I shall never see again. Even if I were to find him again, he may not love me in return.”

Mr. Viridian stopped walking and turned toward her. 

“My dear, Ella” he said softly, with tears in his eyes, “you are the kindest and most wonderful woman I have ever met. You are beautiful, brilliant, and sweet. Whomever the man you dream of is, he must be as lovesick for you as you are for him. His heart must call out to you in the night, straining against the bounds of its flesh as if to rip itself from him. I have no doubt that as often as you dream of him, he also dreams of you. Were I...were I a young man, I should love you with all my heart, and I cannot imagine that he does not feel the same.”

He brushed his hand along her cheek and tucked away behind her ear a stray strand of hair that had come loose from her coif. He leaned forward, and for a moment, Ella thought he was going to kiss her on the lips, but at the last moment, he pulled her toward him gently and kissed her lightly on the forehead. 

It was a kind gesture, such as her father had made many times, and Ella felt only that the old man, her friend, must have come to care for her as much as she cared for him. He had become like another father to her, and their many days together had formed a friendship that bridged the chasms between them—of age, sex, and wealth. In the tenderness of their affection for each other, they had transcended the things that should have kept them at arm’s length from one another. 

 

Loki did not know what to do. He was seldom put in that position, having always felt himself to be in control of every situation he encountered. But this...this was something he did not even understand, much less know how to manipulate to his advantage.

His talk with Ella in the garden that day had let him know that she was still deeply in love with this accursed man whom she had met before she came to Thornwood. She did not know the man’s name, and there was no way Loki could discover it with so few clues to begin from, so in all likelihood, the man, whomever he was, would never be found. 

Yet, Ella still clung to her affection for this nameless, shiftless vagabond who had stolen her heart. Instead of getting the girl quickly married and out of his sights, she had now been his constant companion for three years. The days they had spent together had deepened and expanded his feelings for her, and now, he was certain he was deeply in love with her.

He had never been in love before. It was such a silly emotion! A trivial novelty of youth created for children and poets, for mortals and fools.  _ Love _ he had felt, of course. His mother was very dear to his heart, for one. And when they were boys, he had loved Thor more dearly than he even loved himself, but recently, his idiot brother had made it difficult for Loki to continue loving him, with all the stupid things he did. It was Thor’s foolishness that had finally pushed him to leave Asgard a few centuries before, when he had come to the place Thornwood now occupied.

But here was this girl. A mortal. Barely above an animal. And still, she was the most perfect being in the nine realms. 

Her constant presence was torture to him. The look in her eyes when she spoke of how she felt about the nameless bastard who held  _ her _ heart broke  _ his _ . He wanted her to love  _ him _ , not this dream she kept of someone else she might never see again. He could not even make love to the servants any more, even if bespelled to look like her, because he knew they were  _ not _ her, and it made him melancholy and unable to perform.  _ That _ had certainly never happened to him before.

What if he could make love to the real Ella, though? What if he could make her fall in love with him as he had with her? He could try, but she would never fall in love with the old man. Clearly, she thought of  _ him _ as a father. But perhaps if he shifted into the young one, which was essentially his natural form, he could woo her away from her dream and into his own. 

Maintaining multiple illusions, or creating clones that remained corporeal for long periods of time was tedious, though, so he felt that if he was going to keep Mrs. Greene, Mr. Lyme, and the younger Mr. Viridian about, he needed to stop using the elder Mr. Viridian. 

He sat in his chair, a scarf Ella had recently worn wrapped around his hand so he could smell her, and formed a plan.

 

Because of the childlike devotion she had come to feel for Mr. Viridian, his death broke her heart in pieces. What had once felt like warm sunlight in her soul had turned to shards of glass that cut and stabbed her every time she breathed.

Mrs. Greene assured her that the old man had died in his sleep, in no pain or suffering. He was very old, and these things were to be expected of the elderly. Ella was not consoled by this, and after the burial, she took to bed and remained there for weeks. Every day, Mrs. Greene came to Ella’s room and begged her to get up, to dress, to eat. Mrs. Greene could sometimes coax her into having a little bread, fruit, or tea, but more often than not, Ella refused and simply cried.

One morning, after almost two months, Mrs. Greene decided to take a different approach. She came into Ella’s chamber early, and threw the curtains open, letting in sunlight. Ella put up a hand to weakly protest, but Mrs. Greene refused to close them again. She pulled the covers off and to Ella’s general astonishment that Mrs. Greene was so much stronger than she looked, picked Ella up in her arms and carried her to the bathing room. She set Ella on the floor and drew a hot bath into the copper tub, then stripped Ella’s nightdress and underthings off her. Picking the girl up again, she placed her gently into the tub and began to wash her with a cloth. 

Ella’s skin was alarmingly pale, and her ribs showed all along her sides and back. Mrs. Greene cried out when she saw how thin the girl had become, and threw her arms around Ella’s shoulders, weeping into her neck.

This, of all the things that had occurred, broke through Ella’s sadness, for though being unhappy herself did not move her at all, the thought that she had caused pain to another shocked her out of her languor. She reached up her thin hand and laid it along Mrs. Greene’s face at her neck.

“I am sorry I have been so...so unable to…” she trailed off. “I have not felt alive since my only friend has been gone.”

“My dear child,” said Mrs. Greene, “am I not your friend also?”

“Are you?” she asked, turning.

Mrs. Greene blinked back her tears. “Of course I am. I love you dearly.”

“I did not know it,” the girl said with wonder. “Forgive me.”

Mrs. Greene shook her head and kissed the girl on the forehead. “There is nothing to forgive. Now, let me wash your hair.” 

Ella nodded weakly and relaxed into Mrs. Greene’s embrace. After a few moments, Ella said, very quietly “When I have finished my bath, I think I could try to take some breakfast, and tea.”


	9. Tuesday, 3 June, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella finally meets the man on the black horse. Loki touches himself and thinks about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: masturbation, fantasization about sex

Ella awoke to the sound of hooves on the carriage drive but did not open her eyes. The horse, or horses, making the noise outside were loud—louder than most horses she had ever heard. It sounded for all the world like the heavy hoofbeats of the black horse her dream love had ridden.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up in bed. The sound of galloping had ceased, but she could hear a horse snorting and pawing outside still. She rose from bed and ran to her window. Looking out into the courtyard, she saw a great black horse, saddle empty, being led to the stable by one of the grooms. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

It was _his_ horse. She would have staked her life on it. For some reason, without any understanding of why or how, she knew _he_ was here at Thornwood.

She washed as quickly as she could and dressed, pulling on her favorite green gown. She pinned her hair up as well as she could do without help and nearly ran down the stairs. She stopped in the great hall and listened.

In the years she had lived there, Ella had developed a keen sense of which sounds belonged in the house and which did not. She could hear, coming from the direction of the library, a very faint whisking noise, as of someone running their hands over fabric. She steadied herself and walked into the room, back straight, head up.

His back was to her. He was brushing the riding dust from his breeches, and he turned as she entered.

It was him.

He looked just as she remembered him. He was tall, over six feet if she was to guess. His frame was angular and lanky, leanly muscled, strong. Black hair hung straight down, except the tips which curled away from his face, almost framing his broad shoulders. He had piercing green eyes, just like those of—

“Good morning. I am Mr. Viridian. You must be Miss Merriweather, my father’s nurse.”

Ella felt like her body was on fire. She willed herself to be calm.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, after all this time,” she said. Her tone was sharper than she had intended, likely because of the frustration she felt at having pined away for him for three years, when if he had only stayed one more day, so that she met him before he had gone to the continent, she would not have had to endure it.

His face drew into a look of concern at her harsh tone, and Ella realized she should apologize before he took too much offense. But what would she say?

“I take it you are irritated because I left my father here, and he died alone, without his son at his side?”

“No,” she said boldly. “He did not die _alone_ . _I_ was with him until he retired for the evening of his last day. In the morning, he was gone when they came to wake him.”

“I see. Thank you for being a good companion to him. You served him well in the years you have been here. He wrote of you often.”

“Oh!” she said. It had not occurred to her that Mr. Viridian would even bother to mention her in letters to his son. “I hope his correspondence showed that he knew I felt a deep affection for him. He came to be like a second father to me, and I...I loved him as a daughter.”

“He knew how much you cared,” said Mr. Viridian. “He returned your love, as a father.”

This pronouncement moved Ella to tears and she felt compelled to sit. Mr. Viridian, seeing the state his words had put her in, knelt before her and used his handkerchief to gently dab her tears away. She was startled at this display of familiarity, but she was too moved by his words, and too enticed by his proximity, to pull away or protest.

“There now,” he said, finishing drying her face. “Shed no tears for my father. He went to his rest contentedly, and he would want you to be happy, even in his absence.”

Ella nodded.

“Do you remember me?” he asked. “Some years ago, you fell out of a tree and I caught you. In the orchard near Rose Cottage.”

“Of course,” she said. “I owe you an apology. I never thanked you for catching me. Had I fallen to the ground, I would no doubt have been killed, my neck broken. I was also very rude, because I had been startled by the entire event.”

“Nonsense. It is I who should apologize. When I caught you...er...I was not trying to lay my hands on your person in a familiar manner.”

“I know it now,” she said. “I was...shocked, at the time, but in the years since, I have realized you could neither have intended nor avoided it. Besides, your father has shown me such kindness since I came to Thornwood that I could never believe any relation of his would be so depraved as to assault a young woman intentionally.”

He smiled at her and his green eyes twinkled.

“Shall we have breakfast?” he asked.

She stood and took his arm.

 

 _At least she did not flinch away and recoil from my presence_ , Loki thought. Her faith that he was a pure gentleman was naive, though it was true that he would never take something not freely given. Why would he bother when it had always come to him so easily? He had never had to look far for it. Had never had to beg. With her, he _would_ beg, if he thought it would make any difference.

He closed his eyes and stroked his cock, thinking of Ella. The way she had felt under his fingers when he dried her tears for his “father,” and the way her voice echoed through the room when he had made her laugh at breakfast permeated his soul. He wished he dared go to her chamber now. She would be in bed. His bed. Green sheets and green coverlet pulled over her beautiful young body. She would be wearing one of the nightdresses that had been made for her at his insistence. Each was nearly sheer, and her body would be softly visible through the thin fabric. Her breasts would rise and fall with her breath, and he would come to the side of her bed and kneel down, as a child would for prayers.

He would wake her softly with kisses to her hand, then beg her to let him make love to her, to let him teach her about pleasure and how wonderful he could make her feel. She would say yes, and he would climb into the bed, kissing her lips and down her jaw, sucking the flesh on her neck.

He would move down her body to her breasts, slipping the nightdress off her shoulders and pulling it beneath her orbs, exposing them. He would dip his head and take one of her pink nubs into his mouth, and she would arch and moan.

He was nearing his climax, and when he thought of how it would feel to finally sink into her, he lost control and found his release. He lay awake for a long time before he finally drifted off to sleep and into dreams where he made love to Ella over and over again.

 

He was right in thinking she was in bed, but he was mistaken that she was asleep. She could _not_ sleep, for every time she closed her eyes, she felt his hands upon her again. Now that she had heard him speak at length, she felt more than ever that his was the loveliest voice she had ever heard.

Her desire for him when he was but a fragment, a wisp of her memory, had burned with an intensity that frightened her. To have him here, now, under the same roof was maddening. She wished she dared go to him.

Would it be _so_ wrong? It was a sin, assuredly, but she loved him so dearly, the thought of never knowing how it would feel to be completely his made her heart ache. A young lady of quality would never give her body to a man to whom she was not yet wed, but Ella wondered if she could bear not doing so. After all, _was_ she a young lady of quality? She was an orphan of no means. She had been taken from poverty by a kind man, for no other apparent reason than that he enjoyed her company. Had he not, she might have ended in a gutter, selling her body to strangers, as she had heard one of the chambermaids telling another happened in London and Paris.

Nearly all night she lay awake, fighting her urge to run to him and throw herself at his feet. Little did she know he did the same.


	10. Tuesday, 10 June - Friday, 20 June, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella won't ever have to work again. Loki reads poetry. Thor is an obnoxious twit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: Thor tries to be seductive, and it's a little borderline attempted rapey, but not too bad. Don't worry, it will be ok.
> 
> Other Notes: The link is to Tom Hiddleston reading "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord Byron. Because, why use your imagination when you can have the real thing?

Now that Mr. Viridian the younger was at home, a solicitor came to explain the dispensation of his father’s estate. Ella was surprised to be asked into the library when the gentleman arrived to speak to Mr. Viridian.

The solicitor, Mr. Harrington, was a squat man with an indelicate face and a brusque manner. He was not _quite_ rude, but rather brutally efficient. He reminded her of Mr. Edwards, and she wondered if all solicitors were cast from the same mold, or if it was a trait peculiar to those who dealt with the affairs of the newly dead to be unflappable and succinct.

“My son, Loki Viridian shall be my one true heir, all properties, monies, rents, receipts, and repayment of debts not yet returned shall to him be given, save other monies or properties otherwise detailed in this document,” Mr. Harrington read out. “To Miss Elizabeth Jane Merriweather, a settlement of £5000 shall be dispersed, on the following conditions. If she should marry, she shall be entitled to receive the full amount upon her marriage. As long as she remains unmarried, she must continue to live at Thornwood, or forfeit the settlement.”

Ella’s hand flew to her mouth. £5000! It was an enormous sum. Her father’s own income had only been £50 a year, and it had sustained the two of them, albeit roughly. She burst into tears.

Mr. Viridian— _Loki!,_ she thought to herself. His given name is Loki!—came over to her chair and put a hand on her shoulder. He knelt down so that his head was at a height approximate to her seated one, and raised her chin with his other hand to look at him.

“My dear, please don’t cry so. My father wanted you to be provided for, whether you remained at Thornwood or married and left it. While you are here, I will see to your care. If you marry, the settlement will sustain you, and your husband cannot take it from you. Do you understand?”

She nodded and tried to control her tears.

“I understand the terms of the settlement, it is only that the amount is so vast. Why would your father have settled such a great sum on me?”

“He loved your dearly, as I have told you before,” Loki said. “Why does it surprise you that he would provide for you?”

“Because I feel unworthy of such kindness,” Ella answered.

“I assure you, you are not,” Loki said.

 

In the days that followed, Loki spent every day with Ella. In a reversal of her arrangement with his father, they spent the mornings walking in the garden, or riding. Ella did not ride at all, and when he learned this, Loki set out to teach her. In the afternoons, they retreated to the house, or to a quiet portion of the garden, and he read aloud to her. While she had read mostly histories and philosophy to his father, Loki preferred to read out poetry.

One afternoon, they were in the shade of a hawthorn tree on the far side of the hill that blocked the view of Thornwood. Loki had a book of poems by George Gordon, Lord Byron, which had been published a dozen years before. She had never heard most of these poems, and she was thrilled to listen to the silken tones of his voice reading them out. She lay down on the lawn like a young girl, and he sat next to her with the book in his lap and read:

[She Walks in Beauty, Lord Byron (read by Tom Hiddleston)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dllI1dT3Ves)

She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:  
Thus mellow'd to that tender light  
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,  
Had half impair'd the nameless grace  
Which waves in every raven tress,  
Or softly lightens o'er her face;  
Where thoughts serenely sweet express  
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,  
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,  
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,  
But tell of days in goodness spent,  
A mind at peace with all below,  
A heart whose love is innocent!

His voice had lulled Ella into near sleep, but she was awake enough to feel his hand caress her face. She pretended to be truly asleep, and breathed in deeply, turning her head towards his hand, so that her lips brushed his fingers. She felt him shift his body, laying down next to her. Would he kiss her? Should she open her eyes? Or continue to feign sleep?

He leaned closer, close enough that she could feel the air near her face being stirred by his breath.

Suddenly, there was a peal of thunder. Loki moved away from her quickly, and she opened her eyes. A flash of lightning, then another thunder crack boomed above them. It began to rain suddenly.

Loki jumped up and pulled her to her feet. They both began to run toward the shelter of Thornwood. The thunder had startled some of the horses, which had been roaming in a pasture near where they had been reading together.

“I need to take the horses to the stable before they panic,” he yelled over the sound of the thunder and rain.

Ella only nodded and pointed to the house. She would go inside and meet him there. He ran toward the pasture and Ella turned away.

The rain, coming so fast and on top of a week of dry, dusty days, turned much of the ground to mud in short order. By the time Ella was close enough to see the house, her slippers were ruined and the hem of her dress was drenched in cold, muddy water and soil. She was hurrying along, trying to get inside before her dress was completely ruined, when she stepped onto the stone walkway circling the house. It had been rendered slippery by the sudden rain, and as she crossed it, she lost her footing, fell backwards and struck her head on the stones.

The last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness was a pair of strong arms lifting her. She murmured “Loki,” and then she knew no more.

 

 Ella awoke in her bed. She had been stripped of her ruined dress, and someone had pulled one of her nightdresses onto her, and dried her hair. It seemed to still be light outside, so she rose from bed and dressed. She descended the stairs and went to find Loki. She could hear a loud male voice she did not recognize echoing down the hall from the morning room.

When she entered, Loki sprang up from the chair he occupied and rushed over to her.

“You should not be up. You took a nasty fall and hit your head. I should send for the doctor. Let us get you back to bed.”

“I do not need a doctor, nor do I need to return to bed during daylight hours,” she said in her most annoyed tone. Then she softened it. “But thank you for carrying me into the house after I fell.”

Loki’s face first grew blank, then irritated. Before he could speak, the other man, whose back had been to her, rose from his chair and turned to greet her.

“It was I who carried you inside, beautiful rose,” he said in a deep, jovial voice.

The man who came forward to stand at Loki’s side was a giant. He was taller than Loki, and broader, which came as a shock to her because she thought Loki was an enormous person. He wore a scarlet coat, and he had hair at least as long as Loki’s, but it was flaxen instead of dark. He had light blue eyes and he smiled very broadly at her showing a frightening number of white teeth.

“This is Mr. Summers,” Loki said. He sounded almost angry, and Ella wondered why he did not like this man, for it was clear there was some strife between them.

“Good day, Mr. Summers,” she said. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your assistance when I fell.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Merriweather,” he said, pulling her hand up to his mouth and kissing it. “And any time you need my assistance in the future, you have only but to ask.”

Loki’s face colored and Ella could see him biting his lip, as if holding in a gulp of a bitter drink. Ella was too shocked by the suggestiveness of Mr. Summers’ tone to respond to him. But this interloper, however rude he might be, was a guest at Thornwood, and guests could be excused a wide number of petty evils for the sake of civility.

“Will Mr. Summers be joining us for supper?” she asked.

“No,” Loki said, and at the same time, Mr. Summers said “I would love to.”

Loki turned and gave the golden giant a withering look.

“What is it, brother? You would prefer I leave without taking sustenance? Surely your house can provide at least that.”

“Brother?” Ella asked, confused. Loki had no siblings she had ever heard of, and no other sons had been mentioned in his father’s will.

“Brother in spirit only,” Loki spat out. “Of course I have no _real_ brothers.” He gave the golden giant another withering look, and Mr. Summers answered it with a laugh.

“Of course not! We were...we played together as boys, when we were at the...institution?” he said.

“At school,” clarified Loki.

“School! Yes. That’s it,” Summers said.

“Oh, I see,” Ella said. Mr. Summers was a strange man, and she did not like him at all, but he was a guest, and guests must be accommodated. “Welcome to Thornwood, Mr. Summers. I shall go check on supper and make sure an extra place is set.”

 

When Ella had left the room, Loki made a fist and punched Thor in the arm as hard as he could.

“Idiot! She doesn’t know. She thinks I’m a mortal named Loki Viridian. Remember that, please. He has no brothers.”

“I am truly sorry, Loki. It was not my intention to reveal your secrets to your sweet little...what exactly is she to you?”

“She is…” Loki hesitated. If he feigned indifference, Thor might try to seduce her. If he admitted that he loved her, Thor would probably try all the more, just to spite him. He chose a middle path--selective truth.

“Her father was one of my tenants. He died and left the poor child penniless. She relies on me for her care, and I have taken her in as a kind of ward until she is of age.”

“She looks of age now,” Thor leered.

“I assure you she is still very young. Far too young for attention from you, at least,” Loki countered.

Thor gave one of his great rumbling laughs. “Very well, brother. I shall leave your _ward_ alone.”

“Let’s get right to it, shall we?” Loki said. “Why are you here, and when are you leaving?”

“Ready to get rid of me so soon! Oh Loki, where is the brother I knew so long ago? What are you doing down here in Midgard, living among these creatures? Are you not tired of them yet?”

“I enjoy the solitude,” Loki said.

“You’re too much alone,” said Thor. “Besides, I know you miss me. Otherwise you would not have named your house in my honor.”

“My...it’s THORNwood, not THORwood! It’s named for the groves of hawthorn trees all around.”

Thor laughed and slapped Loki on the back to show he was only teasing.

“Nonetheless, brother, you should come back to Asgard and feast with us. You have missed much in your time of absence. The Warriors Three and I fought in a tournament on Vanirheim, and—you’ll love this—Fandaral took a wound in his—”

“Please spare me your stories about fighting, flyting and fucking your way across the nine realms. I’ve heard a variation on each of them before, and none is any more interesting than the last. Your war stories and whore stories are your own to keep, for I have no patience for them.”

“But I have found some excellent whores!” Thor joked. “Though none as good as that one you had before you left Asgard, what was her name? Ashl...Avra…”

“ASTRID.”

“Yes! That was it. Astrid. She was lovely. I enjoyed her very much.”

Loki closed his eyes and bit his tongue so hard he nearly pierced it with his teeth it to avoid shouting at his brother.

“What? You’re not still angry at me about that? Is _that_ why you’ve been sulking down here on Midgard for the last few centuries? Brother, she meant nothing to me. It was a silly game—”

“She was not a game to me. I was very fond of her, and you...you ruined her.”

“Because I took her from you and fucked her so well she forgot her own name as well as yours? It’s not my fault I’m the older, stronger, bigger brother.” Thor laughed so hard he nearly doubled over in mirth.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “You only wish. When I bedded Sif, she said I was hung like a frost giant.”

Thor stopped laughing and looked at his brother sharply. “You never.”

“I did indeed,” Loki smiled.

“You are the God of Lies.”

“She has the head of a bilgesnipe hanging on the wall above her bed. Have you ever noticed it is missing one of its teeth? That’s because she and I shook the wall so hard it fell and broke off on the floor.”

Thor’s face contorted in rage, and then settled into something more like annoyance.

“Well, I suppose that makes us even?”

Loki considered it. “I suppose it does. Or close.”

“Then let bygones be bygones and return with me. Mother misses you. Father—”

“Don’t attempt to say _he_ misses me. I am the god of lies, not you.”

“Well. He asked if I knew where you were.”

“Probably just making sure I’m not burning down the sacred forests of Nithavellir and bringing the wrath of Vidar down on everyone. Oh, wait. That’s his other son.”

“It was an accident! I hadn’t learned to control Mjolnir yet.”

Loki just shook his head.

“I am not ready to return. You may tell mother I will come home when I am ready, and not before.”

“Very well. I shall stay until the morrow. If you change your mind, find me before sunrise and Heimdall can bring us back together.”

“Very well,” said Loki, knowing he had no intention of returning.

At that moment, the butler arrived to tell them supper was served, and they went in to eat.

 

Ella had never seen anyone eat as much as Mr. Summers. He also drank...very much. Usually, she and Mr. Viridian shared a bottle of wine with supper. Mr. Summers had imbibed three bottles by himself, and four very large brandys after. Ella was surprised he could stay awake, much less stand, walk, and talk after the meal was over.

The two of them had still been speaking and laughing over old stories, presumably of their school days, when she bade them goodnight and retired for the evening. She had asked a maid to prepare one of the guest chambers in the west wing, a few doors down from Mr. Viridian’s, for Mr. Summers. When she woke in the wee hours and heard someone fumbling at her door, she thought perhaps he had gotten turned around and had come to the wrong end of the house. Before she could rise and put on a dressing gown, the door opened and Mr. Summers let himself in, carrying a candle.

“Mr. Summers! This is not your room!” she exclaimed.

“I know. It is yours. That is why I am here!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are a very pretty girl, Miss Merriweather. I am very skilled at making pretty girls happy.”

Ella would have been embarrassed if she had not been so angry. Disregarding the fact that her thin nightdress showed the contours of her body well enough that it left little to the imagination, she rose from the bed in a furious state.

“Get out. Get out of my room, you vile, wicked, foul degenerate. Leave at once. If you attempt to gain entry to my room again, or speak any such words ever again within my hearing, I shall...I shall spit in your face!”

Mr. Summers looked at her for a moment, stunned into silence. Then he broke into a hearty laugh.

“I think I understand now what he sees in you. I beg your pardon, Miss Merriweather. I misunderstood the situation. My humblest apologies for my behavior. I think perhaps I quaffed one too many drinks this night, and it led me into poor judgement. However, why ‘I shall spit in your face?’ It’s an odd thing to say.”

“I could not think of anything worse,” she said.

He laughed again and bowed himself out of her room, pulling the door closed. With his candle gone, Ella was left in the dark, so she hunted around her own bedside table until she found and lit a candle of her own. She crossed the room to where her reading chair stood, near the window, and dragged it to the door, wedging it underneath the door handle to make sure Mr. Summers could not let himself into her room again.

In the morning, she was awakened just after dawn to the sound of Loki pounding on her chamber door and calling her name. She ran to the door and pulled the chair away, and as soon as she did so, he burst through into the room.

He was wild-eyed and dishevelled, and his eyes scanned the room before they settled on her.

“Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“Tho— Summers,” he said bitterly. “I thought that...that he and you…” He glanced at the bed and Ella colored.

“I assure you, Mr. Summers and I did _nothing_ together. He...he came to my room, but I told him to leave, and then I wedged the chair under the doorknob so he could not return.”

Loki looked at her with astonishment.

“You...told him to leave?”

“Of course!” she said.

“But last night, at dinner, you were so engaged in his conversation! The two of you seemed to be...getting along very well.”

“He was our guest. It would have been rude for me to behave otherwise.”

“And you did not...he did not...make love to you?”

Ella blushed crimson. Unable to speak for a moment, she shook her head violently. “I only want one man, and it is not Mr. Summers,” she said. She had been keeping her eyes on the floor, but she raised them to his when she said the last, hoping he would understand her meaning.

“I see. I am sorry I woke you with such a noise, then,” said Loki. “I will leave you to spend the rest of your morning in peace.”

He left, pulling the door closed behind him.

He had not understood that she meant she wanted _him_. Ella laid down on her bed and smothered her sobs of frustration with a pillow.

In the hall outside, Loki uncrumpled the note his brother had left him and read it again. “I took your sweet little jewel for myself last night. _That_ makes us even for Sif.”

“And _I’m_ supposed to be the God of Mischief,” he said to himself quietly.


	11. Saturday, 21 June, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella tries to seduce Loki. Loki switches genders and finally gets some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your patience has been rewarded. There is quite a bit of smut here! 
> 
> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: exposure/flashing, gender/sex swap, M/M/F, rough sex, oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, cum swapping, mutual masturbation.

Ella had not returned to the secret room for some time. She had looked through most of the books, and scrutinized the paintings, until she felt she had a fairly good grasp of all the necessary actions once she had a man in her bed. The trouble was getting him  _ to _ the bed. 

When Loki had burst into her room that morning, believing she had been intimate with Mr. Summers, she had come very near to telling him that she loved him. She tried, in her own way, to let him know that  _ he _ was the man she wanted, the man she dreamed of. She attributed his inability to understand her as a failing on her part to be clear enough, so she was determined to find a way to let him know how she felt.

At breakfast, he apologized again for nearly breaking her door down, and she forgave him again. She said she wanted to spend the better part of the day on her own, and asked if he would mind if they did not have their usual ride that morning. Loki seemed disappointed, but he agreed, and said he needed to go to town anyway, so he would go this morning and get it done. He would return late, perhaps after supper.

Once she saw him ride down the road, she found her way to the secret chamber again. Inside, it looked as if some of the furnishings had been moved slightly, and she wondered if they really had, or if it was just a trick of her mind.

Among the books, she had found one, once before, that had been titled “The Fine Art of Seduction.” She had only briefly perused it, because it seemed written for a man, and was a book about how a man should woo a woman to get her into his bed. However, she thought that perhaps, if she was clever enough, she could learn the techniques anyway, and use them to lure Loki to hers.

She took the volume back to her room and hid it there. After supper, she retired early and began to read.

Much of the book seemed to involve kissing a lady, first on the hand, and later elsewhere. She did not find it useful at all. If she dared kiss Loki, she would have already done so. However, there was one part where it spoke about creating a way for the lady to accidentally see the man naked, the implication being that once she did, it would make her want him strongly enough that she could not resist his advance. Or, that she did not want to resist it.

She thought she might be able to employ this technique. After all, this very morning he had burst into her room and she was wearing nothing but a nightdress. What if she had been wearing nothing? What if he chanced to walk in on her in… oh! That was the perfect solution. 

She knew that having spent all day in town, Loki would return late, and would bathe before he went to bed. A short time before she believed he might return, she went to the bathing room closest to his sleeping chamber and filled the tub there with hot water. She returned to a window at the front of the house where she could see far across the fields, and had a good view of the road.

Not long after, she saw dust rising on the road, which she took to believe was Loki’s horse returning. She waited until she could see the horse clearly enough to be sure, and then she raced back to the bathing chamber and disrobed, immersing herself in the water. She listened carefully for his footfalls on the stair, then in the hall, and she heard him go into his sleeping chamber. A few minutes later, he came out of the sleeping chamber and she heard him approach the door of the bathing chamber. This was her moment.

Just as he opened the door, she stood up, as if she was about to get out of the bath. He came through the door and stopped, his face frozen, looking at her naked body, dripping water into the bathing tub. 

“Miss Merriweather I—I am so sorry,” he exclaimed, and turned from the room as quickly as he could, leaving her alone in the bath. 

Ella did not know what to do now. This was her last, best idea, and it had failed. She had hoped he would come into the room, see her, and come toward her, taking her in his arms. Instead, he had panicked and run away from her. He must truly think her hideous. Dejected, she dried herself and made her way back to her chamber.

 

Loki sat on a chair in his sleeping chamber, shaking. Closing his eyes, he could see her before him, every curve and crevice, from the hollows above her collar bones to the sweet curls that framed her cunt, and from her breasts, with their stiff, rosy nipples, to the arc of her hips. He had never felt so much desire, and yet so much apprehension about fulfilling it. 

His ‘errand’ in town had been a pretense to go to a lady there who kept him company from time to time. Having seen Ella in her nightdress when he burst into her room looking for Thor that morning, he could not stop thinking about the subtle curves of her body, so when she said she wanted a day alone, he had decided to try to slake the feverish desire that was consuming him. He could no longer perform with Marie or any of his other usual women. He had tried bespelling them to look like Ella, had made them wear her clothes, had tried to let them fellate him so that he would not have to try to pretend passion.

Everything had failed. He thought maybe Charlotte, the woman in town, would be enough of a change of pace that he could perform. 

He had gotten to her rooms, disrobed, watched her strip, and then, unable to coax his member into stiffening, had burst into tears and buried his head in his hands. Charlotte was skilled enough to know that sometimes clients needed her cunt and other times they needed her ear and her heart, so she wrapped her arms around him and coaxed the story out of him. 

“You are in love with her?” she asked when he was done.

“Yes. So much I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you made an advance on her?”

“No. She still loves the same man she has loved all along. I asked her, just this morning, if she wanted to be with my brother, who tried to seduce her last night, and she said ‘I only want one man, and it is not Mr. Summers.’ If she does not want him, she surely does not want me.”

“How long has it been since you were able to be with a woman?” she asked.

“It has been...two, no three…”

“Months?” she asked.

“No. Years,” he answered quietly. “Since shortly after she arrived.”

“I am so sorry. It is easier, I think, for women. We may not feel particularly engaged in the act sometimes, but we can still lie there and please a man. That will not help you, though. You must seduce her. Even if she loves another, she will fall to your charms if you tempt her with the right things.”

“I thought so. I thought she liked my voice, so I have spent nearly every day for the last year reading to her and talking with her. The only effect it seems to have had is that my heart is even more hers, while I believe she thinks of me only as her landlord and benefactor.”

“Then kiss her, and make your feelings known.”

“But what if she rejects me?”

“Then, I will always be here for you,” Charlotte said.

He had ridden back to Thornwood in the fading late light of the solstice planning to wash off the road dust and fall into bed, exhausted from his emotional exertion. Then he had opened the bathing room door, just as she stood from the bath, and had seen her, dripping and nubile, looking at him with her eyes wide. 

Loki all but ran from the room. How would he ever apologize to her for this? He had seen her completely unclothed. This was not like when he had seen her in that state while in the guise of Mrs. Greene. That was...motherly. When he had helped her dress and wash, when he had taken care of her through her sickness and grief, and undressed her when she fell, placing her lovingly into her bed, he was not thinking of her in a sexual way, only as someone he needed to take care of.

Now, she would hate him, perhaps even be afraid of him. He wished his trip to see Charlotte had not been fruitless. He still could not perform, but he needed release. Perhaps if he tried pain? More partners? He could call in Marie and Eloise. He could let them tie him and beat him. Or perhaps Eloise would enjoy teasing him with some of his devices and toys. He—wait. What had Charlotte said? That it was easier for a woman, because even if she did not feel especially passionate, she could still lie there and let a man use her body. 

Why had he not considered this before now? Certainly he had done it before, but not recently. It would at least stimulate him, and perhaps give him some relief for his body, if not for his mind. 

He changed his shape, hair growing longer, body shrinking, face refining. 

 

Ella had decided she must tell Loki how she felt. If he accepted her love, she would finally be able to have her desires fulfilled. Even if he rejected her, it would be better for her to know how he truly felt, so that she could begin to let go of her hope that he would love her someday. 

She readied herself, wearing the night dress that obscured her form the least—it was nearly transparent—and pinched her cheeks, nipples, and even the folds between her legs to make everything pink and enticing. She rubbed her nipples until they hardened, and rubbed her hand a few times down the slit between her legs, distributing the moist slickness that pooled there whenever she thought about him.

She walked the length of the house, for Loki’s chamber was the farthest from hers in the whole of Thornwood.

As she neared his room, she saw the door begin to open. Suddenly shy, she ducked into another room that had a door standing open. From, that vantage, she could see the rest of the hall quite easily.

The person who emerged from Mr. Viridian’s room, however, was not Loki. 

It was a woman, tall and thin, with long midnight black hair. She was wearing a green dress, and when she walked, her hips swayed from side to side, as if seeking to entice any who watched her.

Ella was heartbroken and sickened. She had to shove her fist into her mouth to stop herself from sobbing out loud.  _ This _ was why he had reacted so strongly after seeing her naked in the bathing room! He had this woman waiting for him in his chamber, no doubt, and he had probably had his way with her already. With a woman this beautiful in his bed, he would have no need of Ella.

She watched as the woman walked to the portion of the hall that led to the servant quarters and ascended the staircase there.

 

At the top of the stairs, Loki found her way to a particular door. She knocked softly and a handsome young man opened it. “Your Mistress needs you, Nathaniel” she said in a soft contralto. She put her hand out and reached under the young footman’s nightshirt, gripping his cock. It was enormous to begin with, and when she rubbed her hand up and down on top of it, she felt it begin to grow even larger. She had selected Nathaniel for exactly this reason. When fully erect, his size rivaled that of Loki’s in his masculine form, and on many occasions, the god of mischief had enjoyed its pleasures, either on his/her own flesh, or by watching it disappear into the cunt, mouth, or ass of one of the other servants.

Nathaniel opened his door wider and let her in.

“Take your clothes off and fuck me,” she told him.

The footman was only too happy to comply. It had been years since the Mistress had blessed him with her delicious body. He stripped to the skin and moved toward her. He ran his hands along the neckline of her dress, trailing his fingers under the fabric. 

“Rip it off of me,” she said. The footman kissed her roughly, pressing his lips against hers, and she opened beneath him, taking his tongue into her mouth. He grasped the shoulders of the dress, one hand on either side of her neck, and ripped it out and down, baring her to the waist. She wore no stays and her breasts spilled out as the fabric was removed.

Hungrily, he grasped her breasts and took one into his mouth, sucking and licking. 

“Don’t be delicate,” she said. “I want you to fuck me until it hurts. I want bruises left on me.”

He bit the nipple that was in his mouth and pinched the other hard. She moaned loudly and threw her head back.

“Yes, like that. Give me more,” she said.

He removed his mouth and shoved her back so that she fell against the bed. Holding the sides of her dress in either hand, he finished ripping it in half, then pulled the silk down over her hips and legs, throwing the shreds of fabric behind him. He pushed her knees apart and without any preamble, thrust his enormous rod into her as hard as he could, burying himself completely. She cried out and closed her eyes. He began to thrust hard against her, fucking her violently. She grabbed his hair and pushed his head down to her neck, where he bit into her flesh. He grasped her wrists and pulled them out of his hair, pushing her arms to the bed. He was digging his fingers into her forearms where he held them, denting her flesh hard enough to create the bruises she sought.

Again and again he pistoned into her and she moaned with each thrust, feeling the sweet stimulation of his cock sliding into her, breaking her, opening her fully. 

He came, gushing into her cunt. Juices, his and hers, seeped out of her around his cock. She pulled him out and while he was softening in her hand, she whispered something in another language. He immediately hardened again.

“I need more,” she said. She pushed him off her and turned onto her stomach, sliding her legs off the bed and down to the floor. Bending over and placing her hands flat on the bed, she spread her legs wide so he could see all of her. He thrust two fingers inside her, pushing as hard as he could. She was already stretched open from his large cock, and his fingers slid in easily, so he added a third. That also went in without complaint, and he curled his hand into a cylinder, bringing the first and smallest fingers together, tucking his thumb into the hollow below them, and thrust the whole hand in. She swallowed him up, and he kept thrusting, penetrating her more each time until she had taken him to the wrist. She shoved her hips back against him at every thrust as if her cunt wanted his whole arm inside her. 

“Give me something else,” she said.

He removed his hand and while it was still dripping with her juices, pushed two of his fingers roughly into the tight ring of her anus. He continued working that orifice, eventually getting three fingers in before he removed his hand and positioned the head of his cock at her muscular opening. Pushing into her in a slow but steady motion, he impaled her rear onto his staff. 

He rocked her hips slowly against his pelvis, pulling her onto and off of him. 

“Stop,” she said, and he immediately ceased and pulled out of her, waiting mutely for her instruction. “Go get Edward and bring him here.”

He turned and left the room, his stiff cock bouncing as he walked. She reached between her legs and rubbed her clit, trying to get more pleasure while she waited. A few moments later, both footmen returned. Edward, who had immediately understood what she needed, had stripped as he walked, and now moved toward the bed, his hand pumping his member furiously. 

“Where, mistress?” he asked. In answer, she opened her mouth.

Edward sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her face down to his crotch. She took him into her mouth and he began to control her head, pushing it down and pulling it back up to soothe his cock. Nathaniel resumed thrusting into her ass. She endured them for a few minutes, then pulled her mouth off Edward.

“Stand up,” she ordered. He obeyed, turning her body as he moved so they were alongside the bed instead of over it. Once there, he resumed fucking her mouth.

She reached around and pushed her longest two fingers into Edward from behind. She reached as far in as she could, until she found the firm flesh of his muscle, deep inside his pelvis. Edward moaned as she palpated him, and she alternated her mouth and hand so that when he was mostly out of her mouth, her fingers were deep inside, and when she pulled her hand back, she swallowed him to the hilt, her lips brushing the dark curls at his base.

With a cry like an animal, Edward found his release, shooting his seed into her mouth. She continued palpating him until she was certain he had nothing left to give, and then removed herself from him, bringing her mouth up to his in a kiss. She spat his milk into his own mouth. Edward knew enough to not swallow it, so he held it in his mouth and waited for her to tell him what to do.

Behind her, Nathaniel was moaning and thrusting frenetically, nearing his own release. He suddenly found it, shooting into her ass. When he was done, she pulled herself off him.

“Together,” she said, and then murmured her foreign words again, making them spring to life once more. Edward moved forward, kissing Nathaniel and spitting his own cum into the other footman’s mouth. She watched as they traded it back and forth, their hands tugging one another’s cocks. They continued until each of them had orgasmed again, but by that time, she had lost interest and left.

 

In his natural form once again, Loki wearily trudged down the hall toward his rooms. He was too tired even to teleport himself back. All that, and he still had not reached orgasm. It had felt...good might be too strong a word. It was pleasant. Merely pleasant. Not wonderful. Not spectacular. Pleasant. Would he never again find release? How long would his body betray him? 

He decided he needed to go to Ella, apologize to her for seeing her in the bath, tell her how he loved her, and beg her to be his. He approached her room, trying to think of how to explain himself. When he reached her door, he raised his hand to knock, but, hearing a sound inside, he stopped and pressed his ear to the door instead.

Ella was weeping loudly. Sobbing, in fact. She sounded for all the world as if her poor heart was broken. He knew that sound. It was the sound his own heart made whenever he thought of her leaving, or with another, or hating him. He was sure he knew the cause. 

For a girl such as Ella, so pure and sweet, being discovered naked and exposed as he had found her earlier must have felt like the worst of betrayals. Her embarrassment he expected, but this raw heartache—it had never occurred to him she might take it that hard. Poor child! He felt sick. He raised his hand again to knock, then thought better of it.  _ I will beg her forgiveness in the morning _ , he thought.  _ If I approach her now, she may be ashamed that I have found her in such a delicate emotional state, crying and forlorn. _

Instead, he continued on to his own rooms.


	12. Sunday, 22 June, 1834 - Tuesday, 21 October, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella tries to forget her love, but when she hears Loki telling Mr. Summers about the beautiful woman he is in love with, she assumes it is the raven-haired beauty she saw emerging from his room. Inconsolable, Ella runs out of Thornwood Hall into a terrible thunderstorm, and Loki chases after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: angst, unrequited love

Ella had cried almost all night, but by the time she could see the sky growing lighter with the first hint of sunrise she had steeled herself. She would find a way to explain her presence in his bathing chamber the previous evening. She would cease spending so much time with him. She would be cold, brusque, and efficient. She would, in every respect she could, emulate those dispassionate solicitors whose sternness she had once been horrified by. Now, she thought she knew why they behaved in that manner.

Death, like heartache, brought upon one such grief that calm, rational objectivity was the only way to soldier through it. Now that she knew Loki had a lover—a lovely, seductive woman, so beautiful Ella could never hope to win his affections away from her—she knew that even if she could not move past her love, she must begin to move on with her life.

At breakfast, she greeted him promptly as soon as she saw him.

“Good morning. I must apologize for my presence in your bathing chamber last night. My own tub would not drain, and rather than have a servant woken to repair it or foregoing my bath, I thought to use yours. Had I but known you would arrive home so soon, I should have waited until this morning.”

He looked taken aback.

“It is I who must apologize, for walking in on you when you were in such a state. I beg your forgiveness.”

“Nonsense,” she said tersely. “You have nothing to apologize for. We have both been living at Thornwood for quite some time, and I considered your own father to be a father to me. In some way, that makes us nearly family. While I do not relish the idea that you were exposed to my bare form, I am certain I’m not the first woman you’ve seen unclothed. At least it was not the other way around! I should have been a great deal more embarrassed if I had walked in on _you_.”

“I...see. I am glad you are not...upset,” Loki said.

“I think today I shall be on my own,” she said. “I’m afraid I haven’t the time to devote to our ride or reading today.”

“Very well,” he said softly. “If there is anything I can assist you with…”

“No, nothing. Thank you, Mr. Viridian.”

Ella said nothing else, and as soon as she had finished her breakfast, she left the room.  

When she was far enough away that she had no fear he would hear her, she let out the breath she was holding in, and with it came a half sob. She pushed it down, burying it under the cold steel she was trying to use to replace her heart.

Loki felt for certain Ella had been...not exactly lying when she said she considered him as a brother, but she wasn’t being entirely truthful, either. He decided it must be that she was covering genuine embarrassment she must feel about the event with this chilly demeanor she had adopted. If she did not want to spend the day with him, that would have to be the way of it. Perhaps once she had gained some distance from the events of the previous evening, she would want his companionship again. He would simply wait until she was ready.

The following day, Ella again said she was otherwise occupied, and would not be able to spend the day with him. The day after that, he rose a little later than usual, due to much tossing and turning the previous night, and found that she had risen early and gone for a ride alone. The day after that, he rose early, in order to attempt to meet her before she went out, only to find that she had sent the maid down to the kitchen for a tray, claiming she was feeling under the weather and wished to take some tea in her chamber. She did not come out all day.

And so they continued in that way for several months. Each day, Loki would try to spend time with her, and Ella would brush him off with some excuse or pretense. The only time he saw her most days was at meals, and she had taken to sitting at the far end of the table, and eating as fast as her body and her manners would allow. Once she finished her meal, she left the dining room, going off to ride, or to the garden alone, or to bed—whichever activity she planned to engage in next.

Soon, the summer ended. The leaves began to change, but Ella’s demeanor did not. Loki despaired, believing he had lost her forever.

 

Late one cold, blustery October afternoon, Ella’s will finally broke. She had not eaten that day, for she could not settle her stomach, and she was shaking from lack of food and from nervous energy. It was a terrible day, and the rain poured down, making sad rivulets on her window. The sky looked like she felt.

She knew Loki was downstairs, in the library, and she thought that at last she must go to him, and admit her love. She straightened her hair and put on the gown she believed flattered her the most, one of the green ones, which Loki had said previously he greatly admired. She descended and approached that portion of the house, but she heard voices from the library, so she stopped at the door. If Loki had Mr. Lyme, or someone else within, he may not want to be disturbed. Even if he did not mind the interruption, the subject of her discussion with him precluded her attempting to broach it with any other ear nearby.

Of the two voices, one was Loki’s, and the other was deeper, louder.

It was Mr. Summers.

She shrank back from the door. If Mr. Summers were here, she might like to run up to her chamber and bar the door again, and not emerge until he had left. But she hesitated, and she heard Loki say something that made her heart break open yet again.

“I am so deeply in love with her that I know not what to do,” he said.

In love? He must be talking about the beautiful woman in green she had seen leaving his chambers. So he _was_ in love with her. Ella had expected to see the woman again, perhaps for Loki to introduce her at some luncheon, likely as the woman whose hand he had asked for. But she had never seen the other woman again at Thornwood, and she dared not ask Loki who she had been, for then he would want to know how and why Ella had seen her.

“Have you told her?” asked Mr. Summers. He sounded less jovial and boisterous than he had on his prior visit.

“No. I...I have tried so many times. I have approached it, but every time I try, something intervenes.”

That explained why he had not brought the green-clad beauty back to the Hall. He was still attempting to woo her, and the woman was resisting. _As if,_ Ella thought, _any woman could resist Loki._ What kind of demon was this creature, if she could look into his handsome face and clear green eyes and not fall deeply in love in an instant?

“You should just take her then,” Summers said.

“I cannot do something like that to her,” Loki replied.

 _He must be denying that he could seduce her because he does not want Mr. Summers to know he already bedded the woman_ , Ella thought.

“Besides,” he continued, “I have not seen her regularly for months now. I believe she is avoiding me on purpose.”

“Can you get her alone somewhere? Perhaps away from this house? It’s so large, she could flee anywhere within it. You should get her somewhere small, intimate, where you can discuss your desire for her at close proximity.”

“If she will not even speak to me, how can I ever hope to get her alone, and somewhere like that?”

“I am truly sorry I teased you about her so broadly last time I was here,” Summers said. “If I had known how deeply you felt about her, I would never have done so. I thought she was merely a plaything for you.”

“I was afraid that if you knew, you would try to take her away from me, and I could not bear to live if you had.”

Ella had heard enough. Loki loved this woman so much, he would die if she were taken from him? If he felt so deeply about the woman, then it would be foolish of Ella to even admit her love. He would never, ever, love her.

Ella could not think. Her soul was in torment, her mind reeling from the realization that she would forever love a man who would never return her love. She stopped in the hall, weeping. Her mind kept repeating the same refrain: He did not love her. He would never love her.

She understood exactly how Loki felt about his raven-haired beauty. If _he_ were taken from her, Ella felt she would not be able to bear to live. But he loved another, and in a way, he had already _been_ taken from her. His heart would never be hers.

She suddenly knew she must leave Thornwood Hall. Not for the hour, or the day, but forever. It would break the settlement the elder Mr. Viridian had given her, and she would be penniless, but she did not care. She could not stay in this house for another moment.

The things in her chamber, the dresses, the hair ornaments, books and ribbons and other small things Loki had given her—they all belonged to him, and to the house. She had nothing. She could not go naked, so she would have to take the dress she was wearing, but she would take nothing else.

Ella unlatched the front door and opened it. The wind nearly tore it out of her hand, blowing into the hall. She went out and pulled the door shut behind her.

 

Loki heard a loud crash in the hall, and he and Thor both jumped up. Loki got there first. It seemed the front door had not been latched, and the wind had blown it open, slamming it into the wall. He began to push it closed, but he looked across the front garden and saw a small figure disappearing into the hawthorn trees. It was Ella.

“What in the name of the Norns is she doing out there?” he exclaimed. “She’s going to catch her death.”

“You should go after her, brother,” said Thor. “I am off to Asgard. Good luck finding your woman.”

Before Loki could ask Thor to help him find Ella, the God of Thunder had called up to Heimdall, who opened the bifrost. Thor disappeared in a burst of multi-colored light, and Loki let out an inarticulate growl of frustration.

“You could at least have done something about this accursed storm of yours!” he yelled into the ceiling. “Damn him,” he added as he exited the hall, pulling the front door of Thornwood closed and latching it behind him.


	13. Tuesday, 21 October, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki saves Ella from the storm, and they take refuge in Rose Cottage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut, smut, smut.
> 
> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: oral sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, just a lot of sex

Ella realized after she had gotten not even a quarter mile from the house that she had made a terrible mistake. Her dress was soaked, slippers ruined, skin and hair drenched. She was so cold her teeth were chattering uncontrollably, and she rubbed her hands along her arms, attempting to get some warmth into them. She tried to cower under the hawthorn trees, but without their leaves, they provided little shelter from the torrential rain, or from the howling wind.

Then again, she thought, it did not really matter if she froze to death out here. Loki did not love her. What did she have to live for? She decided if she were going to die, she would like to do so under the apple tree where she had first met him. Perhaps she could dream of him once more, and die while her mind imagined him holding her in his arms.

She climbed the hill that lay between Thornwood and Rose Cottage slowly. It was hard to ascend. Even if she had been wearing good boots instead of ruined slippers, the ground was slick and muddy. She fell several times, scraping her hands on rocks and ripping her dress on tree branches that had been blown down by the wind.

Once, when she was very near the top of the hill, she had thought she heard a sound, as if someone calling out her name. She listened again, but she heard nothing but the wind.

 

Loki called Ella’s name again. She could not have gotten too far. He was moving hither and thither rapidly, teleporting ahead in one direction and then another, trying to find a sign of her anywhere. He looked up the hill that lay between Thornwood and Rose Cottage and thought he saw a scrap of fabric flickering in the wind. He teleported to the top of the hill and found a long swath of green silk, torn from Ella’s dress. It had caught on one of the wild rose briars that covered this part of the hill. Below him, the orchard where he had first met her stretched out to the bottom of the hill, and then there was Rose Cottage. Perhaps she had gone there to shelter from the storm.

He teleported to the cottage, but there was no one inside. He started back up the hill on foot, calling her name. Halfway across the orchard, he saw her lying on the ground.

“Ella!” he yelled, but she did not answer. He moved to her side and took her in his arms. She was alive, but shaking and soaked through. She opened her eyes when he picked her up.

“Loki?” she asked weakly. It was the first time he had ever heard her say his name. She always called him ‘Mr. Viridian.’

“Yes, Ella dear. I am here now. I will take you back to Thornwood.”

She collapsed in his arms, lacking the strength to stay alert any longer. He was afraid that even in this state, he might frighten her if he teleported her. The servants were attuned to it, but she was not. He would have to carry her by hand.

He started back up the hill and a bolt of lightning struck one of the apple trees in front of him.

“THOR! If you are doing that, this is no time to be playing tricks. This girl needs shelter!” he yelled into the air. He started up the hill again and again, lightning struck a different tree. What was his idiot brother doing?! Loki vowed that when he next saw Thor, he would strangle him.

Instead of trying to go to Thornwood again, he turned. If he could not take her to the shelter of the great house, Rose Cottage would have to suffice.

He had forgotten how bare and plain the cottage was. And to think, his sweet Ella had lived here for more than a decade. He removed the rough furnishings with a whispered incantation and conjured a large, soft bed in the middle of the room. He laid her down and moved his eyes around the room, using his magic to transform it into something palatable. A fire suddenly blazed up in the grate. Towelling cloths appeared on the bed and he began to remove the excess water from Ella’s hair and body.

Ella was so cold! Her clothes were soaked completely, and he needed to get her out of them before she sat in them for much longer. He did not want to remove her things with magic, in case she woke and it frightened her, so instead he pulled her forward into his arms and carefully unbuttoned the back of her sodden dress.

“Loki?” she murmured.

“I am here, Ella darling,” he said.

She opened her eyes.

“Where…?”

“Rose Cottage,” he answered. “You were in the rain, and you are very cold. We need to take your dress off and warm your skin,” he said.

She nodded and attempted to reach behind her to remove her dress. She seemed dazed.

“No, darling, let me do this,” he said.

He peeled her dress off of body slowly and cast it away from the bed. When her dress was gone, he unlaced her stays, and finally pulled off her pantalettes, leaving her bare.

“Let me find something for you to wear…” he began, but Ella placed her fingers on top of his lips to stop him from talking.

“Loki,” she said. “I...I want to tell you…I was leaving Thornwood...”

“Ella, _why_ did you run away from Thornwood?” he interrupted. “Into a thunderstorm, no less! My darling girl, you might have been killed.”

She was surprised to find that there were tears in his eyes when he said it.

“I was leaving so that you may be happy.”

“What?!” he exclaimed. “Ella, how could you leaving ever make me happy? It would destroy me.”

He was now openly weeping and he cupped her face with his hands.

“Why?” he asked again.

“I wanted to let you live in peace, without me here ruining your courtship of the beautiful woman you are in love with.”

Loki was very confused.

“What?”

“I overheard you, talking to Mr. Summers this evening. I know that you are in love, deeply in love, you said, with the...the black-haired woman. I saw her leaving your chamber one night. I knew then that I must abandon my dream of ever receiving your love in return for the love I have held for you these many years.” She put her head down and she began to cry, her shoulders shaking and her body shivering.

Loki’s mind was reeling. She loved him. She loved _him_! And she had held back because she believed he was in love with his own shapechanged self. Somewhere in the time they had spent together, she had stopped loving the man she had met before she came to Thornwood, and had come to love him instead. His heart felt like it would burst with joy.

He wanted to explain. He wanted to tell her everything. But most of all, he wanted to kiss her, to make her his, to let her know that he loved her.

He put his hands on either side of her delicate face and pulled her downcast eyes up to his. “Ella, I love _you_ , not some other woman. I have loved you since I first saw you, in the orchard, the first moment my eyes met yours. I love you with all my heart.”

He leaned toward her and pressed his lips against hers. It began as a chaste, loving kiss, but it did not remain one for long.

All the passion he had felt for almost five years came spilling out of his mouth and into hers. Ella neither passively accepted his kiss nor pulled away from him. Instead, she reached her hands up and twined both of them in his hair, pulling him firmly against her. She was already almost laying down on the bed, so when she leaned back, he followed her down.

She let out a little moan as his chest brushed against hers, and suddenly he came alive. He was kissing her madly, with an almost brutal passion. She opened her mouth and he devoured her, probing into her with his tongue. He pushed his fingers through the hair at her temples and she slid her hands down to his neck.

When they broke the kiss, she pressed her face against the curve of his shoulder, panting hard. He continued kissing her gently on the side of her face and jaw.

“Loki,” she moaned. “Please, make love to me. Make me yours.”

He pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes.

“Are you certain, my love? You have never bedded a man, have you? Do you know it will hurt you a little? The first time?”

She nodded. “I read about it in your books. I would rather die than not have you. What is a little pain when compared with the joy of knowing you love me?”

“I do. I do love you,” he said. He kissed her again, working his way from her lips to her earlobe. The pale neck he had dreamed of so many times was his for the taking, and he thought he had never felt happier, not in his nearly thousand years. His lips laid gentle, staccato beats along her collar bones and across her throat.

Ella was making soft moans of delight every time he touched her. She had moved her delicate fingers down to his back and she was tearing at his shirt. He disengaged from her and sat up. Unbuttoning slowly, he pulled his shirt off and dropped it next to the bed. She ran her hands down his chest and he tilted his head black, reveling in the feeling of her fingertips caressing him. Her sweet hands had reached his breeches. He helped her by unbuttoning them and she pushed them down, past his hips. He pulled them the rest of the way off, and when he did so, his huge cock, which was so hard and painfully swollen that any movement or touch made it ache, sprung up and stood straight out in front of him.

She gasped.

“It’s...you’re so…”

He smiled gently.

“Do not worry, my love. I will make sure you are well prepared to receive me before I enter you.”

He lowered his mouth to her neck once more and again began to kiss and lick her skin, moving down toward her breasts slowly. He was caressing her arms and brushing his fingertips against her skin as he moved down. He planted featherlight kisses on the tops of her breasts, and then, with his eyes raised so he could look deeply into hers, he kissed her nipple softly. She gasped and he placed his open mouth around it, licking across the entire areola, and finally closing his lips over her nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

Ella groaned and her body shivered a little beneath him. He sucked harder and she groaned again, louder this time. Soon, he was pulling on her hardened nub with as much suction as he could give without hurting her, and she arched her back to push more of her breast into his mouth. When she relaxed again, he let her go.

Leaving that breast for a moment, he moved to the second one, repeating much of the same, licking and sucking her flesh into his eager mouth.

He moved to the valley between her breasts, placing a line of kisses there and trailing down her stomach to her navel. She gripped his hair again, and to his surprise and delight, pushed his head lower.

 

Ella felt more alive than she ever had. She pushed his head down and spread her thighs wide. He trailed his slender fingers through the curls that covered her mound and looked up at her, his green eyes filled with joy.

“Ella. My Ella,” he said.

He spread her open gently and began to taste her flesh, licking her folds softly. This was what she had dreamed of so many times, and yet her imagination could never have provided her with anything like the reality she was experiencing. She shuddered each time he touched her.

He pushed his tongue flat against her and began to stroke her with it. She felt him sucking at her flesh, and suddenly there was a burst of pleasure. Her nub, her clitoris, as the books called it, was in his mouth. When she had touched it herself, she had stroked it only briefly, and then, without any pressure. He was sucking it at least as hard as he had done to her nipple, then circling it with his tongue. He set a pace of strokes, sucking her in again after every few licks, and soon she was overwhelmed with pleasure. Her release started from underneath his mouth and spread through her, tearing a wordless cry from her throat.

She thought perhaps that would be the end, but he did not stop. He continued his assault on her sensitive bundle of nerves, riding out her first orgasm and bringing her swiftly to a second. This time, she cried his name.

“Loki, yes, please...please more, I want you.”

Her incoherent babbling seemed to excite him at least as much as her moans had done, if not more.

He moved his mouth lower, spreading her wide with his hands. He began to lick her orifice, plunging his tongue inside of her. It felt longer and thicker than a tongue could possibly be, and she wondered how he could make her feel this good. She wanted to please him, to make him feel as good as he was making her feel.

“Loki,” she gasped out, “I want to give you pleasure.”

He pulled away from her and moved up her body, bringing his face near hers. He was smiling at her as if remembering something.

“Ella, my darling, my love. Every moment I touch you is bliss. Let me give you this. There will be time for my satisfaction later.”

He kissed her lips softly, brushing her face with his fingertips, and she tasted the same sweetness on him that she had found before when she tasted herself.

“Then will you take me?” she asked. “Will you make my body yours?”

He did not answer out loud, but closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to her cheek and nodded.

He sat up and looked down at her smiling. Reaching his hand onto her mound, he slid his fingers between the folds, rubbing back and forth and spreading the slick fluid all over her. He circled her clit with his fingers and then moved to her core, pushing one of his fingers against her entrance softly. Slowly, so slowly she could barely tell he was moving, he pushed the finger inside her. She could feel her walls all around him. It felt strange, but not unpleasant. He moved his hand into and out of her for a time, and then reached up with his thumb to stimulate her clit again. The combination of his finger inside and on top of her was driving her to madness, and she lifted her hips, trying to drive herself against him and find another orgasm. He answered her need by pushing a second finger inside her and increasing the speed of his thrusts.

She closed her eyes and relaxed against the bed, breathing shallowly. She could feel her release building, but it still seemed a long way off. He curled his fingers inside her, pushing against the front wall of her core, and she felt another abrupt change in her pleasure. He was circling both her clit and the place on her inner wall that felt so magnificent, moving his hand faster and faster. She slipped over the edge of oblivion and arched, pushing her head back into the bed and grinding against his hand.

When she collapsed, he pulled his hand from her.

“Do you still want me, my darling?” he asked.

“More than anything,” she answered, and he kissed her deeply again, sucking her lips and tongue into his mouth before releasing her and sitting up on his knees.

He pushed her legs wide apart and positioned himself between them, then spread her slit wide with his hands and positioned the tip of his member against her.

“This will hurt, my love,” he said, “but I will be as gentle as possible.”

He pushed forward slowly and she felt him stretch her apart, wider than she thought she could possibly go. She winced and gasped a little in pain when his cock penetrated a little deeper, and he stopped and waited.

“I will move very slowly until I can push fully inside of you,” he explained. “As your body adjusts to me, it will become easier, until your delicious puss takes me completely. Do you understand?”

She nodded and brushed his hands with hers.

He leaned down and began kissing her again, alternating between soft, quick nips and caresses with his mouth on hers. He pushed into her a little more, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her fingertips into his back. He stopped again, trying to let her adjust, but she urged him on with her hands, gripping his shoulders.

“Don’t stop. Take me. I don’t care if it hurts,” she said.

“Ella, are you su--”

“Take. Me.” she said tersely, looking directly into his eyes and digging her fingernails into his back.

A visage of pure lust overtook his features and he kissed her again, harder than he ever had before, bruising her mouth and biting her lips. At the same time, he shoved his hips forward, hard, impaling her upon his cock. She moaned into his mouth, a sound half joy and half agony.

He had been right about the pain. It was intense, but Ella was not dissuaded from her decision in the least. He was inside her at last. She was wrapped around him, her walls gripping his cock and pressing against it. He pulled his mouth from hers and looked into her eyes again.

“You still wish to continue?” he asked.

Her answer was to push her mouth against his, dig her nails into his shoulders, and wrap her legs around his hips, pulling him as close to her as possible.

 

Loki gave out a slightly choked half sob of happiness and began to thrust into her slowly, pulling nearly all the way out of her and then sliding back in even more slowly than he had pulled out. Each time he did, she sighed and moaned. Soon, he increased the speed of his thrusts, watching her carefully to make sure he wasn’t hurting her too much. She slid her hands down his back to his rear, cupping his round cheeks in her palms and squeezing them. He sat back so he was upright and looped his arms under her knees, pulling her against his thrusts, lifting her lower half off the bed to be able to penetrate her all the way. He increased the speed of his thrusts again, plunging into her again and again. Her eyes were closed as she gave herself over to the feeling of him moving inside her.  

He straightened her legs, laying one on the bed and putting the ankle of the other on his shoulder so he could use his hands. He found her clit and circled it with his fingers, rubbing in the same rhythm as his thrusts. Her eyes flew open and she started moaning with each circle of his digits. Her breathing grew shallow and he could tell she was close.

“Ella, I love you,” he said. “I have always loved you. You are the most beautiful, most wonderful woman I have ever met in all the worlds. You are divine, my flower. I have wanted you for so long. So long…”

He closed his eyes, lost to the rhythm of his thrusts, and laid the side of his face against her leg on his shoulder. He opened his eyes again when she began to keen and gasp for air. She had reached up and grasped her own hair, as if to anchor it, to keep herself from floating away. He felt her begin to quiver and her walls clenched tightly against him, spasming and squeezing his cock. He had never felt a woman’s cunt grip him that strongly, and it sent him over the edge. While she was still shouting out her pleasure, he released into her, sending wave after wave of his thick seed into her womb until it filled her. Still he kept thrusting, more and more fluid spilling from him, and his milk squirted out of her around his cock, drenching his sac and dripping down between them, pooling around her anus.

He took her leg off his shoulder and leaned down, kissing her again on the lips and grasping her face in his hands. He removed himself from her gently and lay down beside her. She turned toward him.

“Do you feel alright, darling?” he asked.

“I feel as if my body is made from all the stars of the night sky,” she said.

He chuckled. “It is generally termed ‘afterglow,’ and I understand exactly how you feel.”

“I wanted to tell you I loved you for so long,” she said. “I was afraid to. I did not dare. And then…”

Her smile faded a miniscule amount, and her eyes grew sad.

“And then? What is wrong, Ella? Why do you look as if you want to cry now? A moment ago, I thought you were so happy.”

“Who was the woman? The beautiful woman with black hair who was in your chamber?”

Loki had tried to shove that question to the back of his mind while they were making love, though he had known it would have to be answered eventually. He could lie, of course. He was the God of Lies. She would never know the difference. But _he_ would know, and he did not _want_ to lie to her. He wanted to tell her the truth, all of it. He feared that if he did, she would hate him, would be afraid of him.

“I love you, Ella,” he said.

“And I love you,” she answered, running her fingers through his black hair.

“I will tell you who the woman is, but after I do, you may not…” His voice dropped so low she had to strain to hear the whisper. “You will not love me anymore.”

She kissed him, first on the lips, and then on the forehead.

“I could never stop loving you. I do not pretend that I am the only woman who has ever been in your bed, and I…” she blushed deeply, “I know about the secret chamber in the house where all the...things are. The books about bodies, and marital practices, and the sculptures and paintings. And the...the furniture that one can be..tied to. Whatever you need to tell me about the woman could not be so terrible that it would change how I feel about you.”

He drew in his breath with a slight sob and his eyes watered with tears.

“For my sake, I hope that is true,” he said. “Because the truth is so much harder to understand and believe than a simple room full of mischief.”

He took a deep breath and gave her a long, deep kiss.

“Trust in me, my love,” she said. “I have only just found you. I will not forsake you for any cause.”

“I...I hope you do not come to regret saying that,” he said. “Let me make us some tea, and then I will tell you all.”

Outside in the storm, a bent old woman in a black cloak rippled her fingers, causing lightning to dance in the air around them.

“That’s a good boy,” Widow Verdandi said. “Glad I didn’t have to slap you _too_ hard.”

She vanished in a wisp of darkness, and the God of Mischief began his tale.


	14. Wednesday, 22 October, 1834 and Asgard, Odin's Reign (Midgardian Year 1506)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki begins telling Ella of his life, starting with his departure from Asgard, and the things that prompted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut!
> 
> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: Sif/Loki, oral sex, deepthroating vaginal fingering, vaginal sex

_Rose Cottage_

“My name is not Loki Viridian. That name is one I took when I came to Swarthorpe, long ago. I do not know why I picked that name, precisely. I could have used my true name. None here, or at most a sparse few, would recognize it. But it is a name I share with my brother, and I was angry with him, so I chose a new one. My name is Loki Odinson.”

“Your brother? Is Mr. Summers…”

“Yes. His true name is Thor Odinson. Our mother and father are Frigga and Odin, of Asgard.”

He took a long pull on his tea before he continued.

“A long while ago, my brother played a trick on me that I did not like. He seduced a girl, a lovely girl I was enchanted with. I was quite young, and had never taken a lover. I wanted her to be the first I laid with.

“My brother saw that I was enamoured with her, and he seduced her away from me. He is older, and stronger than I. Women always seemed to...he never had any trouble attracting them at home, while I…” he shook his head, as if to clear a distasteful memory.

“She and I had arranged to meet one night. I readied myself and at the appointed time, and I went to her chambers.”

His eyes stared off into the distance, and he was lost in memory. As he spoke, Ella could almost see the events he described.

 

_Asgard_

Loki climbed the wall of his mother’s garden with ease. He could have gone in by the gate, but then the guards would have told Frigga he was there, and she would have asked why. He was not ready to tell his mother that he wanted some of her precious flowers to bedeck the hair of the girl he was going to lay with.

Astrid was the finest, most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had golden hair that hung to her waist when unbound. It was her hair he had noticed first.

He was practicing changing his shape and had become a snake, slithering into the garden where the young ladies were laughing and braiding each others’ hair. One girl sat apart, braiding her own hair. He slithered up to her, poised to disappear if she should stomp her feet or scream, but she did neither. Instead, she looked at the little green snake slithering through the grass and picked a tiny morsel off the fruit in her lap, laying it down in front of him. He tasted it with his forked tongue, enjoying the way its flavor popped and tingled. Snakes tasted things very differently than he did in his natural form. He slithered away just as he had come, but he vowed to discover who the girl was.

“Mother, who is that girl?” he asked one day when he saw her walking in the courtyard.

“That is Astrid Bjornsdottr. Her father Bjorn Svenson is one of your father’s advisors. They just arrived at the palace a moon ago. Would you like to meet her?”

Loki looked at his mother with something that vacillated between panic and hope.

“Yes, please?”

Frigga smiled at her youngest child. He might have thought he was being clever, but she had held Loki in her arms since the day he was born. His cunning was nothing next to hers. She arranged a meeting with Astrid and her mother, and when the woman and girl came to Frigga’s garden, she made talk with Brigid while Astrid and Loki walked together.

“Your mother’s garden is delightful, Prince Loki. And these are beautiful,” Astrid said, touching the small star-shaped flowers called blarhjørtu.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Loki said. “They are the same color as your eyes, and your name, Astrid, it means ‘little star,’ and they are star-shaped. These flowers were made for you,” he said.

She smiled at him, and his heart gave a little leap. She put her hand over his, and suddenly his heart wasn’t the only thing that leaped.

Soon Loki and Astrid were walking together every day. One day, he had nearly worked up the courage to kiss her when she grasped his hand and pulled him into a dark alcove. Before he realized what she wanted, she had pressed her mouth on his and her hand against his chest, pushing him to the wall. He kissed her back tentatively and she broke away from him, laughing.

“Loki,” she giggled. “The way you kiss, I would almost say you’d never kissed anyone before.”

He blushed.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You _haven’t_ , have you?”

“No,” he said shyly.

She giggled again.

“If you haven’t kissed a girl,” she said in a whisper, “have you ever bedded one?”

“I...I, well, that is…” he stammered.

She laughed. It was not a mocking laugh, but a conspiratorial one, as if the two of them shared a secret. She leaned into him again, pushing her lithe body against his. He could feel all her curves through her dress. She trailed her fingers through his short black hair and whispered into his ear.

“Would you _like_ to bed a girl?”

He nodded, unable to speak or think properly.

“Would you like to bed _me_?”

“Y--yes. I...when could we?”

“Tonight,” she said. “Bring me some of those blarhjørtu flowers, and I’ll let you run your fingers through my hair.”

He reached his hand up to the golden braids on her head.

“No, silly,” she said. “Not _that_ hair. _This_ hair.”

She pulled his hand from her braids and slid it down her body to her sex. She pushed his fingers against her dress until he cupped her mound through the fabric.

“Keep your hand there,” she whispered into his ear.

She began to sway her hips, moving herself against his hand.

“Not enough,” she said after a moment. “I need more than that.”

Astrid bent down and lifted her dress, pulling it up to her waist. She wore no underthings. Loki gasped at the sight of her beautiful mound, covered with fine golden curls. She grasped his hand again and pushed it against her, moving it back and forth.

“Bend your fingers,” she said, and he obeyed her.

She manipulated his long digits until they were between the folds of her flesh, and then she pressed her body into his hand, impaling herself on him. He was afraid he was going to hurt her, so he held very still.

“Move your hand,” she demanded. “In and out of me.”

He began to move his fingers, pretending he was trying to feel every part of her flesh. In a moment, she stopped him with a sigh.

“I’ll train you better tonight,” she said. “By tomorrow, you’ll know how to please a woman.”

 

That was what had brought him to the garden. The flowers only grew in one place, so he scaled the wall and picked as many as he could carry without crushing them. Tying them into a bundle, he left the garden the same way he had come in, and made his way back to the guest wing of the palace.

He counted the doors in the hallway where he knew Astrid’s rooms were. He was very early, but he had no doubt that she would not mind. He was eager to touch her again, to finally learn what all of a woman’s body felt like.

When he got to Astrid’s room, he raised his hand, poised to knock, but before he did, he heard a sound inside. Astrid was making soft gasping noises. Then, he heard another sound that made his blood turn to ice. The deep rumbling voice of his brother.

“You feel so good, lovely girl. Thank you for sharing your precious cunt with me.”

Loki was sickened. It could not be! Astrid had promised him that she wanted to lay with him, to be the first he ever had. How could she give herself to Thor?

He thought there must be some mistake. Laying the flowers down at her door, he went back outside. Changing his form into a raven, he flew up to the window of Astrid’s room and landed on the sill of the open casement.

Thor was on the bed, bare and sweating. Astrid was on top of him, while Thor held her in place, lifting her and then pulling her back down. His brother’s cock was disappearing into and reappearing from the fine golden curls he had so admired that morning. Loki felt rage rising inside him.

“Switch, pretty,” Thor said after a short time. “I grow tired of this position.”

She climbed off him and walked over to the bedpost, grasping it with both hands. She pushed her legs away from it and bent over, spreading as wide as possible so that her slit was stretched open. Thor got up from the bed, his rod bouncing as he walked. He positioned himself at her entrance and then impaled her on his cock. She moaned and began to thrust back to meet him.

“You have an amazing cunt, Astrid,” Thor said. “So tight. You feel so good on my cock. And to think, you were going to let my brother fuck you.”

“I didn’t want _him_ . I was using his childish infatuation with me so I could get closer to _you_ ,” she said between her moans. “He doesn’t even know what to do with a woman. Besides, what woman would want him when she could have the...the… God of...Thunder.” She screamed the last, panting and crying as she came.

Thor increased his speed and thrust into her as hard as possible, burying himself so far that his sac slapped against her. In a few moments, he found his release, grunting, his cock spasming into her cunt. When he pulled out of her, fluids dripped from her entrance and seeped down her legs.

Loki took wing and flew away from her window. He landed near the salle, the long building that served as a training ground for the warriors. He turned himself back into his natural form and retrieved his daggers.

An hour later, he had been throwing his knives so hard into the practice targets that he had broken three of them, and was halfway through ruining a fourth. He thought he was alone, but someone else was watching him.

“I’m glad I’m not the one you’re angry with,” said a female voice.

Loki turned to find Lady Sif, the fiercest shieldmaid on Asgard. He had always admired her, both for her skill, and for her beauty. When he was young, he believed she was the last of the Valkyries. He had told her this once, and she seemed amused by it, but did not tease him. Furthermore, when Thor _did_ tease him about it, she threatened the great blond warrior with bodily harm if he did not stop being cruel to his brother. Loki had always held a deep affection for her after that.

“I am not angry,” he said. “I’m just practicing to kill someone.”

Sif stifled a laugh with her hand.

“Only one person can get you this worked up,” she said. “What has Thor done this time?”

“I...I cannot tell you,” Loki said. “It would be improper.”

Sif looked at him curiously and Loki sighed inwardly. He would have to tell her _something_ , or she would keep asking.

“He took from me something I cared about. That is why I am so angry. But I do not wish to talk about it.”

“Very well. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. But if you would take advice from me, someone who has been fighting with your thick-skulled sibling since before you were born, the way to hurt him is not with knives. Those would simply bounce off his impenetrable ego. You should obtain your satisfaction by depriving him of something he cares about. If he took something precious to you, then take from him something of equal value,” Sif said.

The tall warrior woman left him to his knife practice.

 

Loki had managed to avoid his brother for nearly a week, but on Tyrsdag, Thor cornered him as he was returning to his room after an afternoon ride.

“Brother! I have not been able to speak to you for days!”

“That was by design,” Loki said bitterly.

“Oh, come now. What could possibly have happened that could make you not want to talk with your own brother?”

The twinkle in Thor’s eye betrayed the truth. He knew _exactly_ why Loki was angry. No doubt, when he had eventually emerged from Astrid’s rooms, he had seen the flowers Loki had left on her doorstep.

“Did you and Astrid _enjoy_ yourselves?” Loki asked, venom dripping from his words. “Was she everything she promised? How many times in a row did she scream for you, _God of Thunder_?”

“She was, indeed, amazing, brother,” Thor said. “I am sorry she chose me, but after all, I am the older, stronger, bigger brother. She couldn’t resist!”

“Keep her, then,” Loki said.

Loki pushed the door of his chambers open and walked inside, slamming the door in his brother’s face. He put his back to the door and smiled.

 _Any moment now_ … he thought.

“Who is ASTRID?!”

“Sif, I can explain,” Thor began.

“God of Thunder? Did you ask her to call you that? How dare you ask some tart from the provinces to call you what _I_ call you when we are together!”

“Sif, I swear to you, my sweet, it meant nothing! It was a game, she was just a passing fancy. You are the only—“

Loki heard a wet “thwack!” He had seen Sif lay her practice blade across the flank of many strong warriors, but he had never heard any of them cry out in pain the way Thor did when her fist connected with his nose.

“Thif, I zwear id will neber habben again and--”  
“Cease your lies, Thor. If you want to fuck other women so much, take _all_ your pleasure from them. You’ll not share _my_ bed.”

The God of Mischief chuckled to himself. Step one. Deprive Thor of something he cares about.

 

He found Sif in the salle, in much the same position he had occupied on the day she had found _him_ , except she was applying her sword liberally to a practice dummy, instead of the throwing targets he used.

“I’m glad I’m not the one you’re angry with,” he said with a slight smile.

Sif stopped her purposeful hacking and turned to face him.

“Who was she? What was she to you?”

Loki shrugged. “A girl. A beautiful girl who said she…”

He dropped his voice low and tried to imbue his tone with the right mixture of hurt and vulnerability.

“She said she wanted to bed me. I...I’ve never…”

He dropped his eyes and scuffed his foot across the floor.

Sif could move as quietly as the wind when she chose to, so he did not hear her come toward him. She put her hand under his chin and lifted it so his eyes met hers. She was almost as tall as he was.

“Never?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Every time I find someone, Thor…”

She breathed out through her nose, angrily.

“Come with me,” she said, pulling him by the hand.

 

Loki had never been inside Sif’s chambers before. It looked much as one would expect of a shieldmaid. Instead of paintings and tapestries, her walls were adorned with weapons. Instead of a wardrobe full of dresses, she had stands covered with armor, both her practice gear and full battle regalia. And over her bed, where most ladies might hang an arrangement of sweet herbs or flowers, Sif had mounted the preserved head of a bilgesnipe she had killed.

“I am very angry at your brother,” she said.

“I know,” he replied.

“That is the only reason I am doing this,” she continued.

“Doing wha—” he began in mock innocence, but he was interrupted by Sif latching her mouth onto his. She kissed aggressively, pushing her tongue into his mouth. He kissed her back, first softly, accepting her forwardness, then increasing his own fervor as his desire possessed him.

She ran her hands under his tunic and slid them up his chest. Loki pulled the garment over his head, and Sif made a pleased-sounding grunt when she saw his lean but muscular chest and sculpted abdomen.

“I thought you wore all that loose clothing because you were skinny and underdeveloped,” she joked.

“No,” he countered. “But unlike my philandering dolt of a brother, I prefer to reserve some things for someone special rather than sharing them with every lightskirt I can get my cock into.”

“Speaking of cocks,” she said, reaching down the front of his breeches and running her hand over his member. He was already mostly hard, so feeling her touch only served to heighten his arousal. She unbuttoned him and slid the fabric down over his hips, raising her eyebrows when she saw him exposed.

“I’m beginning to think I may have picked the wrong brother,” she said.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked, not feigning his shyness.

“Loki, your brother...he is skilled in bed, truly, but you...you have more, ahem, raw material to work with,” she answered.

She grasped his cock and stroked it slowly. He watched her hand slide along its enormous length as it grew even more, hardening completely. She moved her hand to his base, circling him with her hand—or at least trying to. Her hands, even as large as they were for a tall Aesir girl, could not quite wrap all the way around him.

“You’re hung like a fucking frost giant,” she panted.

He blushed. Once he decided to get even with Thor by luring Sif into his bed, he had manipulated the situation to his advantage, but in no way could he have predicted she would say something like that.

Loki reached behind her and unbuckled the back of her armor, pulling it forward, exposing her breasts.

He looked to her for permission.

“Touch me,” she breathed, pushing her chest toward him. He grasped one of her breasts gently and rubbed his thumb over her nipple. She leaned her head back in pleasure. He lowered his mouth to her and sucked the nipple in, feeling it stiffen under his tongue. For a long while, he simply worked his mouth over both of her breasts, enjoying testing how hard he could suck before she moaned. Both nipples were now completely stiff, and to judge from the sounds she made when he ran his fingers across them, very sensitive.

She pushed her armor the rest of the way down, sliding it past her boyish hips and stepping out of it once it dropped to the floor. Taking his hand in hers, she led him to the bed.

He expected her to lie down, but instead she pushed him down on his back and crawled onto the bed. Kneeling beside his body, she took him in her mouth and he moaned, having never before felt something so divine. Sif began to work her mouth over his shaft, taking him as far as she could, which was only about halfway. She pushed her head down, lips taut over her teeth, and pulled up slowly, sucking hard enough that her cheeks hollowed. He moaned her name and laced his fingers through her hair, guiding her head as she moved up and down again and again. Each time, she tried to get all of him in, but he was simply too large. She pulled off him.

“Let’s try this a different way,” she said. “Stand up.”

He complied and she lay on her side on the bed, positioning him so that he lined up with her face. She tilted her head back, making her throat as straight as possible, then guided him in. He could get much more of himself in her mouth from this angle than when he was on his back. She reached behind him and gripped his cheeks with both hands, pulling him into her.

He started tentatively thrusting, and she moaned each time he hit the head of his cock against the back of her mouth. She pulled on his pelvis more strongly, urging him to enter her more, to fuck her throat harder. He obeyed her urging, and as his animal instincts took over, he put his fingers through her hair, holding her head in place, and began to shove his hips against her face, ravaging her mouth. She relaxed and he broke past the end of her tongue. Now, his cock was sliding past her epiglottis and down her throat with each thrust, his entire length disappearing into her beautiful face. She was making a noise halfway between a scream of ecstasy and one of pain when he came and shot his seed down her esophagus and into her stomach. When he was done he pulled out of her gently and she gulped air back into her lungs.

Sif rolled onto her back, gasping slightly and Loki knelt on the floor and looked into her eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Her face contorted into a look of surprise.

“Am I…? Yes. Yes, I am fine,” she said.

“Thank you for that,” he said. “I have never felt anything so wonderful.”

He kissed her softly on the cheek, then on the lips.

She reached her hand up to touch the cheek where he had kissed her.

“I want to learn how to give the same pleasure to you,” he said. “How do I make a woman feel this way?”

Sif looked up at him ponderously.

“Are you certain you and Thor are related?”

Loki laughed a little and sat next to her on the bed.

“Why do you say that?”

“He never asks things like ‘are you alright,’ or offers to do things to make me feel pleasure. He takes what he wants and leaves.”

Loki shook his head.

“That hardly seems fair.”

Sif shrugged. Loki brushed her hair back from her face where a lock had come loose from her braid. He kissed her again on the lips and moved down to her throat. She sighed and ran her hands up his back.

“You really want to pleasure me?” Sif asked.

“Of course.”

“Very well.”

She moved over to the middle of the bed, spreading her legs.

“Bring your mouth between my thighs,” she said.

Loki moved to the position she indicated.

“You must lick and caress me here,” she said, spreading herself open with her hand. “You can use your fingers, too.”

He stroked his hand softly over her mound, feeling the texture of her dark curls. He moved down, inhaling deeply.

“You smell delicious,” he said. Then, he gave a lick to her slit, starting at the bottom and going her whole length. She breathed in deeply and moaned a little on her exhale.

He repeated his licks several more times, tasting her, but also trying to watch her to find out the parts she liked him to touch the best. When his tongue reached a place near the top of her folds, she whimpered softly.

“Here?” he asked, licking the place again.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

He licked again in the same place, putting more pressure on her this time. He began to experiment, sliding his tongue from side to side, flicking it across different areas on her mound and her folds. He came back to the place that had made her gasp again and again, until it started to harden under his tongue. It was something like another little nipple, he thought, and so he sucked it into his mouth. Sif squirmed under him and moaned in pleasure. He continued working his tongue over the little nub, just as he had with her nipples.

“Fingers...inside me,” she gasped out.

Since Astrid had already shown him this part, after a fashion, he brought one hand up and pushed two of his fingers inside of Sif. He moved them in and out while he sucked her nub, simulating the way his brother had fucked Astrid with his cock.

“Curl your fingers, like you are beckoning someone to join you,” she said, and he obeyed her immediately.

“Feel me. Find a place that feels a little different from the rest.”

He moved his fingers around inside her slowly, trying to find what she was talking about. He brushed his fingers over a place that seemed slightly firmer and rougher.

“Here?” he asked.

She nodded. “Press against it and rub your fingers into it, not hard, but firmly.”

When he did as she asked, her eyes closed and her breath became labored.

He continued rubbing inside her and began another assault on her nub with his tongue. Very soon after, Sif began to let out a series of moans. The sounds she was making excited him, and he increased his attentions, pressing more firmly inside her and sucking her flesh into his mouth. Sif clutched the bed coverings and leaned forward. Her voice went higher and she let out a long wail, throwing her head back. Her walls shuddered against his fingers but he did not stop until she relaxed into the bed, breathing in gulps.

Loki withdrew his fingers from her gently and lay down beside her, looking at her. Her beautiful skin was glistening with beads of sweat and her face was flushed. His fingers were still wet with her juices, and he brought them to his mouth. He closed his eyes and licked each finger slowly, cleaning her from him and savoring each drop of her. When he was done, he opened his eyes to find she was looking at him lustfully.

“You licked all my juices off of your hand,” she said.

“I love the taste of you,” he answered.

“I want you to fuck me now,” she said.

Loki smiled and moved between her legs. She bent her knees, drawing her legs up and out. He put the head of his cock against her opening, but then he faltered.

Sif looked into his eyes. She could see that he was nervous.

“It will be alright. Just push forward.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

She took his head in her hands and pulled him into a kiss.

“You won’t hurt me,” she said.

She continued to whisper encouragement to him softly and he slowly pushed his cock into her until it would go no further.

The heat of her walls around him was intense. It felt like fire. He pulled back out of her about halfway, then entered her again, faster this time. Sif sighed with pleasure and Loki smiled, pleased that he was making her feel good. He repeated his motions several times, and she squirmed underneath him.

“You’re holding yourself back,” she said.

“I don’t want...are you sure I won’t hurt you?”

“No. Fuck me harder,” she said. “I won’t break.”

He increased his intensity. She felt so good around him! He looked down at his cock as it was being enveloped by her. Above the place where he was disappearing inside her, he could see the little nub of flesh that had made her cry out with so much pleasure. He reached down and rubbed it with his fingers while he continued to plunge into her.

Sif’s reaction was explosive. She gave a yell of joy and called his name, clutching at his shoulders.

“Loki! Oh Loki! Yes, I want you! I need you!”

Hearing her moaning his name, saying that she needed him, that she _wanted_ him, was almost more stimulating than what was happening to his member. He felt his release rising through him, just as it had when he had emptied himself down her throat. He was thrusting as hard as he could into her, bottoming out with each stroke. With a shout, he spilled his seed into her hot wetness. A few sputtering thrusts later, he collapsed against her, panting.

“You did not find your release this time,” he said after a moment.

“It’s alright,” she said. “I don’t have to have it every time.”

“But I want you to,” he answered. “I think I will try again.”

He was still inside of her and he placed a hand at his base and spoke an incantation. He had used it before to make himself hard again immediately after he had touched himself, and it worked the same now, bringing him back to full stiffness.

Sif’s eyes widened when she realized he was now hard again, and still inside her. He smirked a little at her reaction.

Emboldened by his capacity to amaze her, he put his arms under her thighs and his hands on her back. He lifted her straight up and she clutched his neck in surprise. He backed off the bed and lifted her with him, keeping himself embedded inside her.

He pushed her back against the wall next to her bed and began to thrust into her, bracing her body against the wall and himself against her, joined only at their nether regions. Now that he had a feel for her body, and how best to use it to stimulate himself, he brought himself to another orgasm quickly. After, he again used magic to harden himself.

“How many times can you do that?” she asked, greatly surprised.

“As many as it takes to satisfy you completely,” he answered.

He resumed thrusting into her. Her legs were wrapped around him, heels digging into his narrow hips.

“Harder!” Sif moaned.

He obliged her, shoving his hips against her pelvis. He didn’t realize at first that they were shaking the entire wall. He heard a noise above them and looked up just in time to see the bilgesnipe’s head come loose from its anchor above the bed. He shielded Sif with his body and the beastly trophy glanced off his shoulder before falling to the floor with a loud crack.

He took up the rhythm of his thrusts again. She was panting, her eyes closed, but not yet finding her release. He slowed and pushed her up higher on the wall, trying to rub the head of his cock across the spot inside her he had stimulated earlier with his fingers.

“Loki...Loki!” she cried with each thrust.

Sif bit his shoulder as her orgasm overtook her. He rode it out, her cunt gripping and squeezing him with its contractions, which triggered his own orgasm. He shot into her a final time, and when he could move again, carried her back to the bed. He laid her down and himself next to her, pulling her into his arms.

“I know mischief is supposed to be your purview,” Sif said, “but if you keep fucking like that, you’re going to have to add earthquakes to the list. Also, you broke my bilgesnipe.”

They both burst into laughter. Step two, he thought. Take from Thor something of equal value. Looking over at Sif, her face shining beautifully in the afterglow of her pleasure, he thought he had certainly gotten more than his brother had taken from him. Loki could not remember a time he had been more content. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and fell asleep.

  


The light was coming in on the wrong side, and it took Loki a moment before he realized where he was. Opening his eyes, he found that he was still in Sif’s bed, and the warrior woman was sleeping next to him. Her head was pressed against his chest, and he looked down at her. In waking hours, Sif’s face was intense and strong. In sleep, with her fierce countenance relaxed, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. How could he ever have been so infatuated with Astrid? In comparison to Sif, the golden-haired girl was nothing. She bore as much resemblance to the goddess in his arms as painted glass to a fine jewel. Thor was a fool! How could any man who had lain in Sif’s arms ever want any other? Loki thought about the night before, how spectacular it had all felt, and he wondered if he should wake her and make love to her again. Should he wake her _by_ making love to her again? He felt that he never wanted to do anything else besides please her until she called his name and told him how much she wanted him for the rest of eternity.

He stroked the side of her face gently.

“Still...sleep...Thor…” she murmured.

Hearing his brother’s name on her lips felt like the time he had been kicked in the chest by a horse, and he fought back the tears that threatened to come. Suddenly, he wanted very badly to get as far away as possible.

Loki slipped out of the bed, pulling the bedclothes up so she wouldn’t get cold without him there to warm her, and began to dress. He tried to be as silent as he could, but Sif woke anyway.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling at her. She sat up, the bedclothes slipping below her breasts. Loki struggled to keep his eyes on her face.

“Loki…”

“Before you say anything, I want to thank you for last night. I know you only bedded me because you were angry at Thor, and that otherwise you would never have wanted me here. You said as much before you kissed me.”

Sif was silent for a moment before she answered.

“I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to use you to get back at your brother.”

He sat down on the bed and grasped her shoulders.

“As much as you were using me, I was doing the same. I wanted to, as you put it the other day ‘take something of equal value away from him.’ I got much more than that. I got to spend the night with the last of the Valkyries.”

She smiled at their old joke.

“And,” he added, “I now know what it is to make love to a beautiful woman.”

Sif laughed. “Beautiful? I may be strong and a good fighter, but—“

He laid his fingers lightly over her mouth to stop her from talking.

“You are beautiful. And I do not mind at all that you took your revenge out on Thor by giving me the gift of a night in your bed.”

“Thank you for understanding,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to him when he finds out about it, but I’ll think of something.”

“Why would he find out about it?” Loki asked.

Sif’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I know how men love to boast about their sexual conquests. I’ve heard the Warriors Three talk about countless women they’ve bedded on many realms. I supposed you were off right now to tell them all about last night.”

He shook his head.

“I do not intend to tell anyone. I know you love Thor. You two fight constantly, and you’ve broken up and gotten back together so many times I can’t even remember them all, but I know how much he means to you. And even though he has...poor impulse control when it comes to other women, I know he loves you as well. Besides, my desire for revenge against my brother is not so deep that I would harm _you_ in the process.”

She shook her head in amazement.

“Thank you. You have a kind, sweet spirit, Loki. Please don’t ever let yourself grow jaded and angry. It would break my heart. And, in the future, if Thor and I ever break for good, feel free to tell him about us. If he’s angered me so much that I’ve cast him off entirely, he probably deserves to hear that the best fuck of my life came from his little brother.”

Loki blushed.

“May I kiss you one more time, for goodbye?” he asked.

Sif leaned forward and put her lips to his. It was a sweet kiss, not a kiss to inflame passions, but a kiss between old friends who cared very deeply for one another.

Loki let himself out of her rooms and returned to his own to gather the belongings he wished to take with him. How foolish he had been with Sif. He had nearly allowed himself to fall in love with her. He would never make that mistake again.


	15. Wednesday, 22 October, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki demonstrates his shapeshifting, and other magic. Later, he teaches Ella how to entertain herself when he is unavailable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: masturbation

“I left Asgard that night. I only took one pack and my horse, and I asked Heimdal, he is the gate-keeper of Asgard, to send me to Vanaheim, another realm.”

Ella was not sure what to believe. This all sounded like a fairy story. The God of Thunder? The God of Mischief? How could this be true?

“You claimed you can change your shape. What do you mean by that?”

He stood, firelight dancing across his naked flesh, making patterns.

“I mean this,” he said.

His hair began to lengthen and his body grew shorter and thinner. Breasts appeared on his chest, growing from his manly torso. His phallus and sac shrunk until they were no longer visible, and she could see, beneath his hair, a cleft like hers. She looked with wonder into the face of the raven-haired woman she had seen emerging from his room that night.

“But...how...how can…”

“Magic, my love,” replied the woman in a sultry voice. “Do you hate me, now that you know I am not what I seemed?”

Ella considered. He (she?) was still her Loki, inside. Wasn’t he?

“Do your thoughts change? When you change your shape?”

“No. I retain all of my intellect and my desires, my will, my mind. It is only the form that changes.”

“Have you worn other forms in the time you have known me?” she asked.

He shifted into the person she knew as Mr. Lyme, the agent, then into Mrs. Greene. Finally, he became his ‘father,’ and she clapped a hand over her mouth. She realized then, though it had never occurred to her before, that she had never seen any of them together at once. Mrs. Greene would find her and announce that Mr. Viridian wanted to see her in another room. When she arrived, Mr. Viridian would be there, and Mrs. Greene would have gone elsewhere--Ella assumed she had returned to her other duties. It was the same with Mr. Lyme. And of course, his “father” had died and been buried before Loki returned from the continent.

He had shifted once again, into the form she knew him by.

“They were all you? All along?”

He nodded.

“And you loved me?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you hold the ball? Why push me toward marriage? Why attempt to put me into the arms of some other, instead of taking me yourself?”

“I suppose for the same reason you ran away from Thornwood tonight. I wanted you to be happy. You were in love with that mysterious man, the man you met before you came to Thornwood. If I could not give you _him_ , I would at least see you happy. You spoke of him with such adoration, I thought you could never love me.”

She shook her head.

“Then we are both fools. I believed _you_ loved the woman, and you believed _I_ loved some other man. In truth, I loved _you_ , always. There was no ‘other man.’ The mysterious stranger who stole my breath, my mind, and my heart was _you_. It was that day, in the orchard. From the moment I looked into your eyes, I could not banish you from my thoughts. I thought of you every day since. When you returned from the continent, I was overjoyed, because I thought at last I would be united with you. But, you never seemed to have any interest in loving me. I spent each day with you, hoping you would kiss me or profess that you cared even a little. I even arranged to let you walk in on me in the bath because I thought perhaps if you saw me bare, you would want me. When you left so suddenly after you walked in and saw me there, I thought you must hate me. And then, I came back that night, planning to throw myself before you and beg you to either take me to your bed or relinquish my heart. Instead, I saw the woman exit your chamber, and I believed you had some secret paramour who shared your bed. I believed you would never love me, because the woman was so beautiful, I could never compare.”

His eyes widened at her admission.

“Ella, my darling, you are the most beautiful woman I have seen on any of the worlds. Each day, I love you more, and each day, the more beautiful you become.”

Loki sat on the bed, his eyes brimming with tears.

“But I understand this may be too much for you to bear. If you desire it,” his voice choked in a sob that he bit back, “I can take away your memories of me, of Thornwood. I can take you somewhere far away, purchase a house for you and give you an income that would provide for you comfortably. You could live there the rest of your days and never think of me again. I do not want you to be unhappy, and I realize you may not be able to love me, knowing I am not what you believed.”

“I would never leave you,” she said. “I do not care if you are old or young, or even a woman. I would not care if you were a king or a pauper. I love you. I will always love you. I want to be with you. I want _you_ , no matter what form you take.”

His eyes bored deeply into hers as she spoke the words. She _wanted_ him! She _loved_ him! All Loki had ever wanted was to be needed, loved, desired. He had only wanted to feel a sense of belonging, of completion. That was what had always been lacking in him. He never felt that he truly fit anywhere, not with Odin and Frigga, not in Asgard, not with Thor and his friends, or with his many lovers.

With Ella, he was a man apart no longer. He was hers, and she was his.

 

They spent the night in Rose Cottage, making love so many times that Ella finally begged him to stop and let her sleep. In the late morning, when they finally awoke, they discovered that the storm had cleared. Ella was set to put on her ruined dress and walk back to Thornwood, but Loki wrapped his arms around her instead.

“Now that you know about me, there is no sense in keeping _anything_ hidden,” he said. “I am about to do something that will make you feel strange. Do not be frightened, my darling. You are in no danger.”

“I am in your arms,” she said. “There is no safer place for me to be.”

He smiled down at her and teleported them into her room at Thornwood.

“You...you moved us! Without moving us.”

“Yes. It’s a spell. It’s called--” and there, he started speaking some foreign language that sounded to her like ice breaking in spring and bees humming. It was the strangest sound she had ever heard. The next thing he said was in English again.

“That’s its name in Asgardian, the tongue of my home. I suppose the best translation I can give you is ‘the spell for translocation of a living thing.’ There is a different spell for non-living things.”

She was fascinated. She had read Shakespeare’s _The Tempest_ and Malory’s _La Morte D’arthur,_ and there was magic in both of those, but she had always believed, as she thought most people did, that magic did not exist in the real world, but only in the imaginations of those who dwelt on the edge of the ephemeral: madmen, poets, and children.

She walked to her wardrobe and began pulling out underthings.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She turned to him, wide-eyed.

“My love, I must dress for the day. I cannot walk about unclothed.”

“Hmm. I suppose you can’t,” he said. He crossed the room, his flaccid phallus slapping against his leg as he walked. “But why walk about?”

He took her into his arms and lifted her, carrying her to the bed. Ella let out a squeal of delight that resolved itself into a laugh as he lay her down on the silk coverlet and began softly kissing her neck and shoulders.

“Again? Did you not have enough of me last night. And this morning?”

“I could never have enough of you, my love. I have waited five years for you. My people are long-lived, and usually, the decades fly by for us like months. But the days since I met you have been torture. I felt those years as centuries.” He hesitated suddenly, uncertainty playing across his features. “Unless...you do not want me.”

“No, my love, I do want you. But there is something in me that abhors sloth, and I feel guilt for lying about all day. I should at least be learning something. I miss our time reading together. And when you were...your father, you taught me so many things.”

“Hmmm,” he said. “Perhaps we should make a bargain. I will become your tutor once again, but I will choose the subject and the duration of study, and I alone will be the arbiter of when you have mastered the material.”

She considered his offer. “A counter proposal. For every subject you choose, I am allowed to choose one. We will alternate. Your choice, then mine.”

“We would share the choices equally?”

“Does that not seem fair?” she asked.

“It does. I accept your offer.”

Ella giggled.

“Then this day is the first of your choice. What would you have me learn?”

Loki considered.

“Do you know how to pleasure yourself?”

Ella opened her eyes wide and covered her hand with her mouth, giggling.

“I tried...once. I did not understand how to...When you touch me, it feels wonderful. I did not feel anything like that when I attempted to pleasure myself.”

“Very well then. I have chosen your first subject.”

He crawled off of her and sat up on the bed, looking down at her.

“Lay flat and make yourself comfortable.”

She followed his direction. When she had found a comfortable position, her back straight and legs slightly apart, arms relaxed at her sides, he began his instruction. She followed each of his orders as he gave them.

“Close your eyes, and bring your hands up to your head. Starting at the crown of your skull, I want you to touch your head. Experiment with pressure. How much is enough? How much is too much? Which parts of you are more easily stimulated than others. When you find a place that is especially sensitive, tell me.”

Ella began by stroking her hair lightly, then putting her fingers through it gently, then pulling it. She pressed her fingertips to her scalp and repeated the process.

“Here. Here. And here,” she said, touching different parts of her head.

“Good,” Loki said. Do the same with your face and neck.”

When she stroked her own throat very lightly, it made her skin tingle all the way down to her navel. She found that her ears were also sensitive to light touches, but also to sharp ones where she almost pinched the ear between her fingernails. She told him what she had discovered.

“Next, your chest and breasts.”

She trailed her hands lightly down her chest and grasped her breasts. She had never paid them much attention before, except to wash them and lace her stays around them. They were full and heavy. She liked the weight of them and the way they felt almost liquid. She brushed her fingers over her nipples, as he had done so many times the night before, feeling how the texture of the nipple was so much rougher than the remainder of the breast. She pinched them, first very gently, and then harder. When she discovered the right amount of pressure, she moaned a little and he chuckled.

“Whenever you pleasure yourself by rubbing between your legs, remember the other places on your body that feel especially good to touch. Stroke and tease them, to heighten your arousal. Proper arousal is key for a woman’s pleasure.”

Arousal...what had aroused her most, of his touches? The night before, he had spent several minutes sucking her nipples into his mouth. She wondered…

When Ella pulled her right breast up to her own mouth and sucked her nipple, Loki moaned.

“Yes, my darling. My love, seeing you suckle yourself sets my loins afire.”

“I am happy that I can please you,” she said, before lifting the other nipple to her mouth and repeating the suckling. She tried to imitate all that he had done to her: sucking, both soft and hard, and licking back and forth and in circles. Hard sucking seemed to give her the most sensation, so she began sucking the nipple currently in her mouth as hard as she could. It had grown tight and stiff under her tongue, but it still only felt mildly pleasurable. She put her teeth on it and bit down, not very hard at first, but then increasing her bite until she felt a burst of pleasure that spread through her.

Loki gasped when she bit herself, and when she clenched the nipple between her teeth and pulled it from her mouth with her hands, sliding it between clenched teeth, he gave a grunting moan. She felt something hot and wet cascading over her stomach and she opened her eyes to see that, as she had suspected, he had stroked himself to completion and released his milk onto her body.

He was looking at her with his eyes half-lidded in ecstasy. He began to soften, and as he had done when he fucked her, he whispered something in the strange icy-buzzing language. His cock hardened again and he resumed stroking himself.

“Please do not stop, Ella my darling. You are making your tutor so proud. You should close your eyes again.”

She smiled at him and closed her eyes, moving her hands lower. She stroked across her belly, then explored her hips. Her hand crept toward her mound. She felt her hair, how it whorled and curled. She stroked lower, bringing her hand to the slit in her mound.

“The cleft of Venus,” she said. “That is what the book taught me this was called.”

“Yes,” he said. Do you know the names of the rest?”

“Not really, no,” she answered.

“The large folds, on the outside, are called labia majora. In Latin, the tongue of your dead empire of Rome, that means ‘greater lips.’ The smaller folds, those that peek out from the majora are called labia minora, ‘smaller lips.’ Where they join, you will find a special fold of flesh. That is the hood, and beneath it is your little pearl, the clitoris. For most women, it is the seat of their pleasure. It will grow hard, like my cock, when you are aroused, and it will feel very, very delightful when you massage it.”

She felt all these things, spreading herself with one hand while she stroked the other.

“You must discern how much pressure is enough for you.”

Ella mimicked his actions of the previous evening, finding the little pearl and circling it with her fingers. She could feel a slick fluid beginning to dribble from her. Loki let out another groan. She could tell from the sound of his voice that he was close to completion again.

“My love,” she said, “when you release your milk this time, will you let me open my eyes to watch you, and will you release onto my face?”

“Oh, Ella, open your eyes now, love,” he said in a strained voice. “Open your mouth,” he continued, and she did.

Loki was poised above her face. He was pumping his hand rapidly over his enormous length, and as soon as he saw that her eyes were open, he moaned and his milk came shooting out of his cock, spraying over her face, lips, and throat. She licked it off of her lips and swallowed it down.

“You taste wonderful,” she said.

He smiled at her.

“Thank you for the compliment, love,” he said. “Now though, you must stroke yourself until you find your release.”

“Will you also pleasure yourself?” she asked. “It makes me feel fluttery in my belly to watch you.”

“Of course,” he said, muttering the spell that brought him back to fully erect. He stroked himself again, beginning by trailing his fingers lightly down his shaft.

She increased the pressure of her strokes again, rubbing her clitoris, which had completely stiffened under her fingers. She suddenly stopped and he gasped.

“Are you not close, my darling? Why are you stopping yourself?”

“I wish to use my fingers. Inside, as you did.”

He chuckled quietly.

“My Ella, so eager to try everything. How wonderful you are. Start with two fingers. Your fingers are much smaller than mine, so I always begin with one.”

She did as he instructed, pushing her two longest fingers inside. The only other time she had tried this, she marveled at how tightly her walls gripped just a single one of her fingers. But that was before he had fucked her, had split her wide with his cock. She expected that she would be looser, and was surprised to find that she was not. Her walls still pressed tightly against her fingers. She began to move them in and out, just as he had when he touched her.

“Use your other hand to rub your clitoris. When this begins to feel _very_ good, when you are properly aroused,” he said, “you will find inside of yourself, against the front wall, a place that feels unusual. It should be near the end of where your fingers can reach.”

She did as he asked and soon she began to feel that she was falling into a sort of dreamlike state.

“Curl your fingers up, my darling. Find the place I told you about.”

She felt inside herself methodically, moving slowly from side to side.

“Are you certain I can touch it myself?” she asked. “There does not seem to be any part of me like the one you descri—oh!”

He laughed.

“I believe you have found it. Now, press against it. I did this to you last night. You very much enjoyed it.”

She began to do so, but then the feeling startled her and she stilled her hand.

“Loki?”

“Yes, love?”

“I feel as if...as if I need to make water.”

“Mmmm. Yes, that is perfectly normal. If it is uncomfortable, go relieve yourself, but usually it feels that way because the place you are stimulating is near the same part of your body where your water is held. But when you stimulate that place, your body will eventually issue forth a milky fluid. It will feel very good.”

“Is it possible for the fluid to emerge when dreaming?”

“Yes,” he answered. His voice grew deeper and more lustful for his next query. “Has that happened to you my darling?”

“Yes. From the very first night I came to Thornwood and saw the books and the statue in your secret room, I dreamed nearly every night that you would come to me and touch me.”

His voice was even more strained, and she knew he was nearing his completion.

“Tell me how I touched you?”

“Sometimes, you lifted my dress and put your mouth between my legs. Other times, I took you into my mouth. You had me, in every position the pleasure books illustrated. Sometimes you took me..not the usual way, but in the orifice behind that. And often, I pretended I was the woman in the sculpture, and that there were four of you, all plunging parts of yourselves into me, fingers, tongues, and...cocks.”

With a great shout, he came again, shooting his milk onto her hand, which had resumed circling her clit. She felt it drip down slowly and mix with the slick moisture already there. Something about the commingling of their fluids excited her a great deal, and she felt her orgasm build and wash over her. She opened her eyes so she could see how he looked, watching her find her release. He looked hungry with desire and it made her grow hotter to know how much she affected him. Suddenly, she felt a quantity of fluid leave her, gushing onto body and running down across her other hand, whose fingers were still buried deep inside.

Loki smiled broadly and kissed her once she had relaxed. She had not taken her fingers from herself yet, so he removed them delicately, bringing them to his mouth. He cleaned each finger, then did likewise for her other hand. Finally, he lowered his head to her sex and licked her clean there as well, making sure his tongue lapped up every drop.

“There you are, my love. If you ever feel the need for it, and I am unavailable for some reason, you can pleasure yourself. Besides, sometimes, I might want you to touch yourself while I watch, just as you did now.”

She smiled up at him.

“Would you be amenable to trying the things in the pleasure manuals that I read about?”

“Ella, sweet little vixen, I would be more than amenable. I hope we can explore each and every one of them.”

“And you know the contents of all the volumes?” she asked, innocently.

He brought his cock, now erect again, to the opening of her cunt.

“Darling,” he said as he plunged into her and took up a rhythmic cadence of thrusts, “who do you think _wrote_ them?”

She laughed then sighed contentedly, and he fucked her until she screamed for him yet again.


	16. Thursday, 23 October, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki tells a story. His first day in Vanaheim, he meets a peasant woman who may be more than she seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: vaginal sex, oral sex, adult breastfeeding

_Thornwood_

The following day, for her choice, Ella asked Loki to tell her the story of what happened next, after he left Asgard.

“The place you journeyed to,” she asked, “Vanaheim—was it a different kingdom?”

He struggled with how to explain the nine realms to someone who had never been to another country, much less off her homeworld.

“The world you live on, where we now sit, is called, by my people, ‘Midgard.’ The name means ‘middle yard,’ but a better translation that encompasses its true meaning is ‘the world in between.’”

“In between...what and what?” she asked. “If it is between something, there must be at least two things that surround it.”

“I adore when you use logic,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the end of her nose. “Midgard lies between Muspelheim and Nifilheim. Nifilheim is the ‘world of mists,’ and it is covered by ice. It is so cold and inhospitable that even my people, whom your kind have believed to be gods, cannot stay there long without strong magic. The creatures that live there are vicious things with teeth like frozen daggers. I like them not at all.”

In truth, he had never even seen a Nifilheimer, but as children, Thor would sometimes push him into the frozen pond in the palace garden. When he emerged, his skin would have grown strangely smooth and he would have a skim of ice all over him. It did not happen to any of the others, and because of its strangeness, Thor would tease Loki until he cried, calling him “frost fingerling,” and “Lok-cicle.” It did Loki no damage. In fact, he did not even seem to notice the cold, but it hurt his pride. He always _loved_ Thor, but sometimes, he did not _like_ him very well.

“Muspelheim is Nifilheim’s opposite, a world of fire and destruction. It is the kingdom of one of my father’s oldest rivals, a being made of living flame, named Surtr. This world is also inhospitable to my people. And between them, not too hot, not too cold, lies Midgard. There are nine worlds all together: those three, Asgard, Vanaheim, Jotunheim, Alfheim, Helheim, and Nithavellir.”

“Have you journeyed to all the rest save Muspelheim and Nifilheim?”

“No. I have never been to Jotunheim, either. The Jotun, frost giants, are sworn enemies of my people. But I have seen the other six.”

“Surtr, your father’s rival. You said he was the ruler of his world? Who is your father, that he has a king for a rival?”

He thought of lying to her. The truth might frighten her. But, he reasoned, she had taken the rest of his tale in stride, so perhaps he was worrying needlessly.

“My father, Odin, son of Bor, is the ruler of Asgard. He is called the Allfather, God of Wisdom, Keeper of Knowledge, Scion of the Healing Arts. Sometimes he is called Wotan One-Eyed, for he traded one of his eyes for nine spells that allowed him to become the master of death and battle. He is King to our people, and to the other realms that live under Asgard’s protection.”

Ella’s mouth had contracted into an ‘O’ of wonder.

“He sounds majestic,” she said, after a thoughtful pause. “You must love him very much.”

“He is...a complicated being,” Loki said. How could he ever hope to convey to this mortal girl, whose own father had loved her more than anything, a true sense of Odin’s place in his heart? For within Loki, there waged a war. He knew he _should_ love his father, as he did his mother, but there always seemed to be something between them, something painful and unspoken that he had struggled to understand all his life.

As boys, Odin had lavished attention on Thor for the slightest accomplishment, but Loki had produced near-miracles and had rarely gotten so much as a smile from the Allfather. If Thor made a mistake, he was corrected, but quickly forgiven and back in their father’s good graces. Loki had spent years at a time out of his father’s favor for the tiniest of infractions, and had often been spurned from his father’s sight for nothing, despite his constant attempts at atonement and conformity. It was that abandonment that had eventually become the reason he played his tricks. If he could not garner Odin’s attention by being good and obedient, he could at least draw his father’s eye with pranks and mischief.

Deep within his heart, he longed to prove to his father that he was as good as Thor. Someday, he hoped to do just that—to contrive a plan of action that would make his father proud of how intelligent and cunning his younger son was. Thor could keep his hammer and, someday, Odin’s throne. Loki only wanted their father to love _him_ as much as he loved Thor.

“So, Vanaheim,” he began, shaking off the melancholy and despair that threatened to overtake his heart every time he thought about how the Allfather felt about him, “is the realm of a people much like my own, named the Vanir. My people are called Aesir. Long ago, our peoples fought a war, and with my father at the head of our armies, the Aesir emerged victorious. As a vassal state to Asgard, they pay us tribute each year, and in exchange, our warriors protect them from threats and other hostilities. There is not a great deal of travel between the realms for aught but official matters, so when I arrived, I was treated with lavish hospitality. After all, it is not every day that the Prince of your overlord’s realm arrives at your door.”

 

_Vanaheim, Odin’s Reign_

_(Midgardian year 1506)_

 

Loki heard the portal close behind him, wondering if he had made a terrible mistake. He had left Asgard without asking his father’s permission or sanction, and Heimdal had warned him that the law regarding crossing the borders of Asgard was much more strict about who entered than about who exited. Leaving was at Loki’s own discretion. His return, however, would require Heimdal to make a formal request of Odin to open the way.

He squared his shoulders and looked about him. _No sense in wasting time worrying what father may think of me, or do to me, in his anger. I am here now, and I should make the most of it._

He had emerged from the portal inside a cave, the front of which was obscured from casual notice by a waterfall. The cascade of cold, clear liquid was giving off a pleasantly cool spray of mist that dampened his hair and face. Loki threaded his way between the sheet of water and the wall of rock that stood behind it, leading his horse behind him. The cave had an overhang, and there was just enough room for him to pass through without becoming completely soaked, though his horse received a wetting. Once he traversed the egress, he looked around, his sense of wonder growing steadily with each new thing he saw.

Loki had always imagined Vanaheim as being much like Asgard, but with Vanir wandering its streets and fields instead of Aesir. What he saw when he looked about him resembled his home only in that there was sky above it and land below.

The waterfall lay at the narrow end of a wedge-shaped gorge. The walls of rock were covered with lush green mosses and small bushes. Higher up, tall trees obscured the sunlight, casting a calming shadow across the place. The waterfall ended in a pool, and a stream ran from it to the other end, where it fell one final time and then flowed a short distance and joined its waters to a mighty river. On the great estuary’s far side, Loki could see hills covered with green and gold, dotted here and there with purple and a deep yellow that reminded him of his mother’s favorite color. A little path followed the wall along one side of the gorge, and he started down it, toward the river. It was narrow, so he continued to lead his horse instead of mounting. At the end of the gorge, the path turned perpendicular to its origin and looped down the slope, meandering toward the river in a series of switchbacks.

Near the first turn in the path stood a small cottage of stone. It was covered over with rose vines that climbed its walls, arching over the door and curling around the chimney, and the front was pierced by three small windows and a door. A fence surrounded the place, and a little gate set into the middle of it opened onto the path. The cottage was a rough little thing, but Loki thought he had never seen anything quite so charming.

The being sitting atop the fence was so still and silent, he did not even see her until he was within arm’s length from her, and she moved. He conjured his knives into his hands as soon as he saw movement, but luckily he recognized that the creature his reflexes had perceived as a possible threat was a mere child, and he vanished them just as quickly.

“Yacomeoutthefalls?” she said.

From the tonal uptick at the end of her noises, he perceived it must have been a question, but he struggled to make the sounds parse into words in his mind.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

The child sighed and rolled her eyes, as if all the cares of the world rested firmly on her shoulders, and his request for clarification was but one more in a series of trials.

“I said,” she began, in a slow clear voice, pausing slightly at the end of each word, so even an idiot like him could understand “Did. You. Come. Out. Of. The. Falls?”

“Oh. Yes.”

The child paid him no more heed, but instead swung her legs around and slid off the fence. She ran into the cottage, yelling out “Mama, man come out the falls.”

Her tone was slightly flat—bored, almost—as if men emerging from the waterfall behind her house was such a regular occurrence that it warranted no more excitement than if a hen had laid an egg.

A moment later, a plump woman emerged from the cottage, drying her hands on her apron.

“Good day ta you,” she began cheerfully, and then, recognizing the quality and corresponding expense of his clothing, she added a hasty “sir,” and dropped an uncertain curtsy.

“Good day, madam,” Loki began. “I am a traveler newly come from a distant land. Could you illuminate me? In which part of Vanaheim do I find myself?”

She scrunched her doughy face into a slightly pinched frown.

“A distant land, eh? Well, bein’ as that magic door behind the falls only goes to Asgard, I figger that’s where you come from. For the other part of your question, this here is Tunglfjall. We be about a quarter day’s foot travel to Hvítrhjörtr.”

Loki had never heard of Tunglfjall _or_ Hvítrhjörtr. The chief city was called Vanirhalla, but where that was in relation to his current location he had no way of guessing. Since Vanirhalla lay on the shores of a great sea, however, he surmised it must be far from this mountainous region.

“The child seemed to act as if men emerging from the portal betwixt this place and Asgard was is an everyday occurrence.”

She shrugged. “Every week more like. Always somebody comin’ or goin’.”

Loki was intrigued. Had Heimdal lied to him? Surely Loki would have known a lie when he heard it. The Guardian of the Gate had said this was a little-used portal, and that it was the best place for Loki to enter Vanaheim, as it would attract little attention. Why, then, was an obscure portal that the official guard of the realm believed to be dormant the hub of so much activity?

“Are there no portals closer to Vanirhalla?”

She made a ‘tsk’ and shook her head.

“Of course there be closer portals. But them doors is looked after, aye? I don’t ask no impertinent questions about what come or go through them falls, and in exchange, I get me a coin and nobody trifles with the old lady or the little girl. Nor me, for that matter.”

Ahhhhh… so this portal was used for _smuggling_. Those who used it must have discovered a way to hide themselves from Heimdal’s sight. Loki had always assumed goods, and likely people as well, were moved between the realms outside of official channels. How else could things like the vast availability of the Nithavellirian wine he loved be accomplished?

“I see,” he said. “And how much coin does a traveler pay?”

“Well, that depends,” she said. “A poor bugger I might let through with just a bit or two, for charity’s sake. A rich-dressed bastard with a fancy horse,” she gestured to him, “might pay more. But a good lookin’ lad like yourself might give me no coin at all, and give me a poke instead.”

Had...had she just tried to extort and then seduce him in the same breath? He didn’t know whether he should be flattered, incensed, or scandalized. Loki looked the woman up and down. She was pretty, in a way. She wasn’t tall or stately like Sif, nor regal and refined like his mother, but she had a lovely, curvy figure. Loki imagined himself sucking on her heavy breasts, or taking her from behind, and grasping her generous hips and using them to pull her cunt onto his cock. He found himself growing surprisingly hard at that thought.

“I have coin, but I would certainly like to see what you have under that apron,” he said, before he could stop himself.

She laughed. “Come in me cottage, and then come in me,” she said, with a giggle at her ribald wordplay.

He was afraid the child he had seen, or others, were lurking inside the house, but when he followed her into the room, it was empty.

“Your children aren’t going to wander in here, are they?” he asked.

“Nah. There’s just the girl and the old woman, and they know to make scarce when a man come out the falls. It ain’t often I get one as good lookin’ as _you,_ but even if the man’s paying’ coin, they’d rather stay outta my hair until my business is concluded.”

“Where shall we…” he looked around at the cottage’s meager interior.

“Here be as good as any,” she said, slapping her hand on the table in the middle of the room. The table was half covered in mushrooms, herbs, and other bits and bobs. He got the impression he had arrived as she was preparing to start cooking a large meal. _Or, perhaps a spell_ , he thought nervously. He shook the feeling of dread off. He was more than a match for her physically, and he was no mean talent at magic, either. Even if she was brewing potions, what could she do to harm him?

Loki set his pack on the ground, took off his cloak and his outer tunic and unbuttoned his breeches. When he pulled out his hardening cock, her eyes grew wide.

“Well, ain’t that a sight,” she said reverently. She reached forward and grasped him gently, but firmly, sliding him through her hand and appraising his length and girth with the same kind of professional assessment a butcher gave to a prime cut of meat. “Boy, where you been all my life?”

He smiled slightly, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. The woman turned around and leaned against the table, pulling her skirt up as she did so. She was bare underneath, and her hairy maw already glistened with slick wetness. Apparently, she had been very impressed with him indeed.

He stroked her entrance lightly with his hand, and then dipped his fingers into her well, only briefly, and pulled them back out, slick and dripping. He used her juices to moisten the head of his member, and then he brought himself to her entrance, and pushed into her slowly and steadily. She began to gasp as soon as he was a knuckle in, and by the time he was halfway, she cried out.

“Oh, you feel so good, boy. I can’t believe you fill me up like this. I ain’t never felt nothin’ like it.”

“I’m only half in,” he countered, and she gasped again and twisted around as if trying to see whether or not he was telling her the truth.

He grasped her by the hips, just as he had imagined, and began pumping into her languidly. He didn’t want to finish too quickly. With her only being the second woman he had ever been inside, he wanted to relish the feeling of her wrapped around him for as long as possible.

Her body relaxed as he rocked his hips into her over and over. Soon, she had stretched enough that he was able to get his full length inside. She was moaning and writhing beneath him, shoving her hips back toward him as much as possible. Loki reached around her with his long arms and hitched her skirt up until it was out of his way. He slid his hand down her front and onto her mound, rubbing back and forth and working his fingers into her slit. She gasped when he found her clit and started rubbing her.

“Boy, boy you’re...gonna make me...come. So good, so...good,” she managed to stutter out between thrusts. Then, she was lost to the delirium of her orgasm, and she collapsed against the table. When she finished, he pulled out of her and she made a sound of desperation and loss.

“Oh don’t go yet,” she said. “I never had nothin’ this good. Give me a little bit more, I’m begin’ you.”

He laughed gently.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. He grasped her gently by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. “I just wanted to be able to see your face the next time you come.”

He picked her up and sat her on the table, pulling her cunt to the edge. He entered her again in a single thrust and she threw her head back in ecstasy.

The front of her dress had buttons, so while he fucked her, he opened her dress and let her breasts spill out. Grasping one in each hand, he kneaded them, rubbing his thumbs against her nipples. He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked. To his surprise, a tiny bit of warm milk squirted into his mouth. She grasped his hair in her fingers and held his head there.

“That’s right, boy. Suckle me, drink it down.”

Her milk tasted rich and delicious, and despite his initial apprehension, he found himself enjoying it, both for the taste, and for the comforting feeling of being nourished and taken care of. He felt odd, as if his lower half and his upper half were in two different places—the lower half thrusting his member into her, and the upper half feeding from her breast, but unconnected, as if the two acts were being performed by two different men.

In next to no time at all, she came undone, her eyes rolling back and her mouth uttering a long moan. When he felt her cunt fluttering around him, it drove him over the edge and he emptied himself into her. He continued to drink from her breast for a few moments after, and she held his head, stroking his hair and softly humming. When he stopped, he looked up at her and she leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.

“You are a good boy, Loki. You will always be welcome in my house, and in my arms.”

“Thank you,” he said. He slipped out of her and buttoned himself up. She was still sitting on the table’s edge, legs spread wide, cunt open and glistening. He thought he should never tire of the sight, feel, smell, and taste of a woman. He had only had two--well, two and a half if putting his fingers inside Astrid counted--but he already wanted to explore new ways to find pleasure with every one of them.

“I want to taste you,” he said, running his fingers along her thigh seductively. “May I?”

“Well, since you ask so sweetly…” she said, bringing her knees up and out, grasping them with her hands to keep them splayed.

He dipped his head and lapped at her, tasting the sweet and salty mix of her and himself. She tasted like starlight. He found her pearl and tongued it, flicking and circling.

“Oh you delicious boy,” she moaned. “You’re going to bring me off again. No man has ever been able to do that afore. Few enough have done me in twice, much less another after that. I usually tire of them after the first time and send them on their way.”

Loki wrapped his lips around her hardened clit and sucked. He eased off just as she exploded, sending fluids gushing out over his mouth and chin, which he then licked off of her, and from himself. When he had cleaned all the fluid from her that could be had with his tongue, he stepped back from the table and offered her his hand. She took it, and he helped her down to the floor. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“Should I stay with you? At least for a little while?” he asked.

“No, I think it is time that you continue your journey.”

“Will we meet again?” he asked at the door.

“I am certain we will,” she answered.

As he rode his horse down the pathway to the next switchback, he saw the girl skipping up the path toward the cottage. An old woman hobbled behind her with the assistance of a cane of carved wood. He nodded politely to each of them as he passed.

By the time he realized he had not learned the woman’s name, he was too far down the path to go back. It never occurred to him that she had called him by his name--and that he had not given it to her.

 

“ _Three_ times?” Verdandi asked in her most acerbic tone. “Three?”

“It’s two more than you’ve given most, and one more than you’ve ever given anyone before, in my recollection,” added Skald. “You only even gave Odin two, and he gave us an eye.”

Urd sighed and finished buttoning her dress back up.

“The pain and suffering he will endure before it is all over? The torture? The loss and heartache? The very least I can do for the poor child is give him a few extra chances to cheat death.”

“Does it not upset the balance?” asked Skald.

Urd began adding mushrooms to one of the two pots that sat on the hob over the hearth. Verdandi was trying in vain to relight the hearth fire, which had burned out during Urd’s tryst, with a flint and steel.

“No. I gave him _chances_ , not successes. Everything is possible, but nothing is guaranteed.”

“He must have been _that_ good, then, to even get three chances at life,” Verdandi said.

“I have never had better,” said Urd. “Not even Ymir himself could match this one.”

“Next time, _I_ get to be the mother,” said Skald enviously.

“You couldn’t have handled him. He almost made _me_ lose control as it was, and you know I’m stronger than you both put together.”

“Pish! You’re an old warty toad, Urd. I’m the strongest of us,” Verdandi countered.

“You’re the _strangest_ of us, for certain,” said Skald in an impudent tone.

“Oh, horse cocks!” Urd exclaimed. “I mixed up the pots and I put the mushrooms into the potion and the rat’s liver into the soup. We’ll have to start both again.”

Verdandi stuck a shriveled finger from each hand into the pots and brought them to her mouth to taste.

“They’re both fine. No need to start over. We’ll have a mushroomy potion and a ratty supper, but we’ve had worse on both accounts.”

The Norns continued their bickering and cooking as the Prince of Asgard rode down to the river below the falls.

 

_Thornwood_

 

“Did you ever meet her again?” Ella asked.

“Yes. Eventually,” he answered.

“Did you learn her name?”

“I learned at least one of them. I’m sure she has quite a few more I’ve never heard. I can’t tell it to you, though. Her names are something one must learn oneself.”

“I see. But the cottage, it sounds like _my_ cottage, Rose Cottage, that is.”

“That is by design,” Loki said. “When I first came to the place where Thornwood now stands, I wanted to build a house for myself, but I had never tried to build a structure with magic. Rose Cottage was my first attempt to teach myself how, and I recreated the little cottage in Vanaheim as well as I could do from memory, right down to the three small windows and the gate that leads to the path out front. You’ve also seen what _she_ looks like, the woman I fucked, I mean. When I change my form to Mrs. Greene, I am mimicking her appearance, because I found her to be soothing as well as robustly pretty. I told her as much when I saw her next, and she was so flattered she let me fuck her again! Four times all together. She said she’d never had the same man that many times. I tried to get her to go a fifth, but she declined.”

“She is foolish, then,” said Ella. “If you offered to fuck me, I would have no choice but to give in, such is your charm.”

“Really?” Loki asked with a sly smile. “What if I ask you to let me fuck you right now?”

“Mmmmmm,” she hummed, suggestively trailing her fingers down his body. “I suppose that would depend on if you want to fuck my cunt or my mouth.”

“Why would it matter?” he asked.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she answered. “I just wanted to know which direction to turn.”

“I think mouth this time,” he said.

Ella grinned and began to suck his cock as if it contained the elixir of life itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading! 
> 
> Aaaah. The Norns. I didn't originally intend to include them, but they just showed up when I wrote the three seamstresses. They're too entertaining to only use once, so here they are again. I think we might see them again at some point, but unlike Verdandi, I can't see the future, so you'll know when I know.
> 
> I've relied heavily on Snorri Sturluson's version of them, especially for the names, but there are also elements drawn from other versions of the Norse mythos, and even from versions of the three fates that are from non-Norse myths, such as the Classical Moirai (Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos), and even a bit from Shakespeare, for when they're bickering amongst themselves, they remind me of nothing so much as the three witches in Macbeth. Or maybe the Weird Sisters in Terry Pratchett's Discworld. 
> 
> Urdr/Urd means "fate." In its alternate form, Wyrd, it gives us the word "weird." Her sister/mother/daughter goddesses are Skuld "that which is needed," or "that which ought to be," and Verdandi "that which occurs." In this way, they represent past, present, and future. Anyone familiar with literary/mythological trinities of goddesses will know that the Norns figure heavily into almost all interpretations of the goddess as feminine divine principle. The Norse version casts all three as young maidens, but in honor of those other trinities, I have chosen to cast them as maiden, mother, and crone, representing the three life stages most women go through--from birth to menarche, from menarche to menopause, and from menopause to death. For more on the subject of the goddess principle and the feminine divine, I recommend Robert Graves' book "The White Goddess."
> 
> As to why Urd takes such a shine to Loki, first of all, can you blame her? And second, I wanted to think about how in the hell our boy tends to get so many saving throws, as it were. How many times CAN you cheat death? If the goddess of fate thinks you're a nice kid, that's probably going to work in your favor. 
> 
> In the Norse version of the myth, the Urdarbrunnr/Urd's Well/the well of fate is a well or a lake that sits beneath Yggdrasil, the world tree. The water from the Urdarbrunnr is used to water Yggdrasil to keep it alive and healthy forever, so it logically follows that drinking from Urd's Well would grant the drinker extra life and vitality. I've chosen to interpret the waters of Urd's body as the waters of fate, and her vulva as the well, which to me, makes sense anyway, because it is from there that life begins. 
> 
> I was apprehensive about putting in the milk-drinking, and I hope no one is super horrified by it, but it seemed right for the scene. Loki is missing parental affection, a sense of belonging, and his heart is scarred from all the pain he has already suffered from Odin's treatment of him. Finding comfort drinking from the milk of a goddess seemed wholly appropriate.


	17. Friday, 7 November, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki shows Ella a new way to be satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no plot in this one. Just pure smut.
> 
> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: mild bondage, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, anal sex, breast play, clone sex, M/M/M/M/F

The weather turned unexpectedly cold at the start of November. The day was Loki’s choice, and since they could not go outside, he asked Ella to come with him to the secret room. Strangely enough, it was the only room in the house they had not yet christened with an act of love.

“What would you have me do, my darling?” Ella asked.

“I would like to try something you mentioned to me once, that you had imagined I did to you. Do you recall that you told me you dreamed I took you from behind, in the anus?”

Ella’s heart began to beat very fast.

“I remember. Is that what you would have of me?”

“If you would, my dear. I enjoy it very much, and I believe that you will enjoy it as well. It is something we must be careful with, however. It is very easy to wound one’s partner, especially if one is,” he paused and rubbed his hand along his erect cock, “as blessed by nature as I am.”

“Shall I…” she began to bend over and spread her cheeks with her hands, but Loki shook his head.

“We must work up to it,” he said. “We shall begin by relaxing you.”

He led her to the restraining bench.

“For today, I shall not tie you. I think there will be no need, but do bend over the bench and make yourself comfortable.

He grasped her small waist and hoisted her up a few inches so she could lay over the bench. Her breasts dangled beneath her, and she wasn’t touching the floor on either side.

“You are truly lovely like this,” he said, stroking her slit with his hand. She spread her legs, pushing them out to the bench’s legs.

“Are you certain I shouldn’t be tied?” she asked.

There was a hint of mischief in her voice that made Loki shudder in anticipation.

“Do you _want_ to be tied, my love?”

“I believe I do, yes,” she said.

An animal urge to tie her tightly and fuck her until she begged him to stop washed over him. He had difficulty controlling it. Once he had calmed himself, he began to restrain her. As he had done with Marie, the last time the bench was used, he wrapped her wrists and ankles in soft cloth before binding them into the manacles. She was not as tall as the French girl, so in order to tie Ella, he had to adjust the manacles to a higher notch on the bench’s legs. The result was that she was even more spread than Marie had been, and he moaned when he saw her wet cunt glistening.

“Oh my darling. We are going to have such a wonderful time.”

 

Loki walked to one of the cabinets and pulled from it an assortment of implements. Ella could only see him out of the corner of her eye, so she could not clearly understand what he was preparing until he brought the items in front of her.

There were several rods of different sizes, each with a knob on the end. They superficially resembled the rod used by the woman in the pleasure manual she had seen on her first day, except they were shorter. The smallest was the size of Loki’s thumb, and the largest was only a little smaller than his cock.

“I shall begin by stretching you, with these. First, I insert the smallest, and then we will work up to the largest, and then, to me,” he said.

He moved around behind her and she felt him moistening his fingers using the slick wetness of her cunt. Then, she felt him pressing against the hole at the back. Her anus stretched a little, and she felt something go inside. It felt odd, and very different from how it felt when he fingered her puss.

“Now, my darling, I’m going to fuck you while we let you relax around that for a moment.”

She felt him enter her puss. She was so wet that he had no trouble at all, and as soon as he was inside, he let out a long moan.

“Ella you little minx, I believe you are wetter today than you ever have been. Could it be that the idea of being taken anally excites you? Or is it being tied down?”

“Both, I believe,” she answered.

He laughed and began to pull at her hips, digging his hands into them as he filled her with his member.

“Good. We shall do more of both in the future then.”

From this angle, it was easier for him to use the head of his cock to stroke her pleasure spot, on the front of her walls. Each time he entered her, he pushed across it, making her moan again. The only thing she regretted was that her tied hands left her with no way to satisfy her desire to touch herself.

“Loki, can you touch my breasts? My nipples long for your fingers.”

“Hmmm. I have just the solution,” he said.

She heard a noise in front of her, and looked up in confusion. Loki was suddenly ahead of her. However, he was still entering her from behind.

“Are there two of you?” she asked.

“Yes, my love. One for each end of you. I believe this was another fantasy you entertained before I came to your bed in truth, correct?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, ecstasy coloring her tone.

The other Loki walked forward and knelt down in front of her. He kissed her, and grasped her breasts with his hands. Rubbing her nipples with his fingers, pinching them and pulling on them, she began to feel wonderful sparks of joy that she felt whenever her breasts were fondled. She moaned against him, and he answered by increasing the intensity, both of his kiss and the pressure with which he pinched her rosy buds. Behind her, the first Loki increased his pace, thrusting rapidly.

Her breast-Loki took his mouth from hers and latched his lips onto her nipple. He pulled her other breast up to her own mouth, and held it there so she could suck it herself. The Loki behind her moaned when he saw what they were doing, and he came undone with a shout, filling her to the brim with his milk. He muttered his incantation for hardening and began to thrust again.

While she and Loki the second tended to her breasts, the first Loki pulled out of her and she could hear him gathering his implements. He gently pulled the tiny rod from her ass, and before it could shrink down to its customary size, inserted a second, slightly larger rod. She felt herself stretching and she let her breast fall from her mouth as she gasped.

“Does it hurt too badly, my love?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“No…” she moaned, “it feels sublime! Better than I could have ever imagined.”

He chuckled.

“My darling, that is good to hear. I believe you will be a natural for this act.”

The second Loki sat down on the floor and took her breast back into his mouth. He grasped the other and began to tease it. She closed her eyes and started to moan.

“Loki, fill me. I need you inside me,” she said.

“Fill you?” he asked. “It is my fondest wish to give you all that you desire, my sweet.”

She felt his cock against her lips and she opened her mouth, taking him in as far as she could. He put one hand on her head to hold it gently and began rocking his hips forward, fucking her mouth. She was making slurping noises as she worked her lips over his cock. Then, from behind her, she heard his voice.

“Suck him, my darling. Make him fill your belly with our sweet seed.” It was only then that she realized the Loki fucking her mouth was a third Loki. The one behind her slid into her cunt once more. The Loki in front was pushing farther into her, his head hitting the back of her throat. She choked a little and swallowed involuntarily. Feeling her start to choke, he eased back enough that she could breathe. When he was certain she was again ready, he resumed his thrusts, pushing even further into her throat. Again she gagged, and he pulled back, allowing her to relax.

“Soon, you will be able to take all of me,” he said softly.

He ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing it. Then, he grasped her head with both hands and performed a series of thrusts to the back of her throat. The first hit her throat and stopped. The second pushed past the hard lump she felt when she swallowed. The third went all the way down her throat, and she was surprised to feel his hair tickling her nose. He pulled back again so she could breathe, then repeated the series of three thrusts. This time, she sucked when he pulled back, pulling as hard as she could with the suction, as if trying to keep him imbedded in her throat.

Behind her, he was rolling his hips into her, stimulating the sides of her puss. She felt his hand on her clit, and he began rubbing it in tiny circles that mimicked the motion of his thrusts. A moment later, when the other was sending his cock all the way down her throat for the fifth time, he pulled the rod from her and inserted yet another, slightly larger. She moaned in ecstasy around his cock and he gasped.

“My beautiful Ella, do you have any idea how wonderful it feels when you vibrate your throat like that?”

He slid down her throat fully and held it there for a moment. She moaned and tried to hum, vibrating her voice box against him. He cried out in pleasure.

Loki-underneath switched breasts, sucking hard and biting her nipple, dragging his teeth across it, then gently licking it again to soothe her, before he sucked hard again, and repeated the process.

Loki-behind filled her with seed yet again. She was so drenched in fluids, his and her own, that she could feel them squirting out of her around his pistoning member and dripping down her legs. He was still rubbing her clit and she was very close to her end.

He changed the rod in her anus again. Now it had begin to feel tight and slightly uncomfortable, but also deliciously stimulating.

Loki thrust into her cunt hard, burying himself completely, and it sent her over the edge. She screamed in pleasure, but she had to do so around the presence of his giant cock sliding in and out of her throat. Both Lokis continued ramming into her at both ends. He pulled the rod from her and she felt someone climb up onto the bench, straddling the back of her thighs. Something that did not feel like another rod was pressing against her anus. It felt like the head of his cock. But he was still buried inside her puss... It was then that she realized he had taken her fantasy at its literal truth and remade the sculpture in the corner. There was a fourth Loki entering her rear while the first continued to ream her cunt.

She relished the feeling of three cocks inside her, filling her completely, and her breasts being teased and tasted by his mouth and fingers. It was unbelievably good. Swallowing him down her throat, feeling him choke her with his long, thick cock so that she was never sure if she might never breathe again excited her. Her nipples were sore and sensitive, each of them incredibly erect, so hard they felt like pebbles instead of flesh, and yet, every time his mouth closed on her again and began to suck, every time he pinched and rubbed with his hands, she moaned again from the pleasure. Her cunt was already full of seed, but she felt him coming yet again, and she wondered how much of his milk she could take. And her rump...

Each time he stroked into her ass, she felt shivers of pleasure radiating through her. She had thought it might be painful, with little pleasure for herself, but she wanted to please him, show him that she loved him enough to let him take her in any way he saw fit. It was nothing like she had imagined. There was some pain, when he first entered her, but now that she had relaxed around him, each stroke into her felt like a tiny, joyful wave of ecstasy. She wanted to tell him how she felt, but she was too overwhelmed by the pleasure to speak. One of them, she wasn't even certain which it was at this point, was rubbing her clit very fast, pushing her over the edge. 

When Ella orgasmed, her walls clenched tightly around the Loki buried there, and he began to moan again and call out her name. The one in her ass also moaned as he came closer to his climax. She wondered if, like the statue, the Loki fucking her cunt had his fingers buried inside the one who was ravishing her ass.

 

Loki pushed his hand farther in, trying to rub the prostate of the clone who was delving into Ella’s rear. The clone was breathing shallowly as he neared his orgasm, but Loki was so lost in trying to control so many variables that he could not concentrate on finding the clone's internal pleasure point. Instead, he picked up the anal rod he had so recently taken from Ella’s ass and pushed it into his clone. The clone groaned with pleasure and looked over his shoulder. Loki began to kiss himself, pushing his tongue into his mouth. He kept hold of the rod with one hand and brought the other to his clone’s chest, rubbing and pinching his nipples and feeling them harden against his fingers.

His clone cried out in ecstasy as Loki finally brought him to completion. It started a chain reaction. The clone fucking Ella’s ass came, burying himself as far as he could go and shooting his load of milk far into her. When Loki saw it, he came as well, filling her cunt again, feeling the seed spurt out around him, expelled from a puss so thoroughly stuffed that it could no longer hold any more. Seeing the ecstasy on the faces of the other two, the one in her mouth lost control and buried himself in her, shooting everything he had down her willing throat one last time.

All three of them slowly pulled out of her. As the mouth-Loki pulled himself free, cum was still dribbling out of him, and she licked it from his tip. The ass-Loki pulled out, leaving Ella's orifice gaping. The last pulled himself out of her cunt and the sound he made extricating himself was a wet squelching, like boots being sucked from a muddy hole.

“One of us hasn’t come yet, poor man. Don’t you want to please him as well, my pet?” Loki asked.

Ella nodded and he unbuckled her carefully from the restraints. She was so weak from her orgasms that she could barely stand, so he picked her up in his arms and carried her to another piece of furniture, a long flat couch with no arms or back.

The Loki who had been under her, sucking her breasts, got up from the floor and joined her on the couch. The other three Lokis stood nearby, stroking themselves and watching. The Loki who had not yet climaxed pulled Ella down flat on her back and lifted her legs, bending them at the knees and pushing her legs apart as wide as possible so he could have access to her anus. He slid into her hole easily and began fucking it. Now that her hands and mouth were free, Ella reacted wildly, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him madly. He increased his pace and she began wailing, screaming his name.

“Loki, Loki, Yes, f...fuck me. Take me, fill me again. I want to feel your seed dripping from me. Please, love, come inside me.”

Loki had never heard her talk that boldly before, and it filled him with passion. He released with a shout, and a few thrusts later he was spent. He slowly pulled his cock from her anus and it made a small popping noise.

The other three were still stroking their cocks, and as one, they climaxed, sending thick ropes of cum over her breasts, face, and belly.

 

She closed her eyes for a moment to catch her breath, and when she opened them, there was only one Loki again. He lay down on top of her and wrapped her up in his arms.

“Never, in the all of time and space, on any world, has a man loved a woman as much as I love you,” he said.

She was too exhausted to speak, so she simply kissed him.


	18. Sunday, 21 December, 1834

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Prince meets a Queen and learns to kneel. He also learns what happens when a slave is disobedient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I have not posted for a whole month! But, today is my birthday, so you get a present :) I was sick for a while, but I'm better now and I can finish this book finally. Look for weekly updates from here on out.
> 
> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: sex with food, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, spanking, submission

“Do you realize the Christmas ball you threw for me was five years gone this day?” Ella asked.

“I did realize. You looked radiant that night. Every time you danced with or spoke to another, however, I wanted to kill him. There were so many young men who wanted to adore you, and I was disguised as my old father, pretending to be concerned for your welfare. Really, all night I was thinking about how good it would feel to bend you over, rip off your underthings, and fill you full of my cock.”

Ella giggled.

“All _I_ hoped was that the ‘man from the orchard,’ as I had dubbed you, would enter the ballroom, declare that he wanted me for his own, and then take me up to my bedchamber and show me how to perform all the acts of fleshy intimacy the books from your secret library demonstrated. My poor Loki! If we had but known how each other felt, there would have been no need for the ball, and we could have been in one another’s arms every day of those long years.”

They were lying on the giant bed in what had been Ella’s room, which was now _their_ room. They had been there all morning, and as it was the solstice, one of the only holidays Loki observed, they had no plans to rise at all. One of the servants had brought food when they requested it, and they had spent a leisurely hour using each other as dining plates.

First, Ella had laid down on her back and placed hothouse-grown strawberries in strategic places. He had opened his eyes when she told him to, and proceeded to find and consume all the strawberries using only his mouth. His personal favorite was the one she had hidden in the entrance to her puss, held between her lips. He had saved that one for last, sucking it into his mouth while she giggled. Then, he had sucked her clit into his mouth, converting her giggles to moans of pleasure.

Next, it was her turn, so while she waited, hands over her eyes like a young child playing a game, he had poured syrup all over his member, sac, thighs, and belly. She cleaned him with her tongue, and when she had succeeded in getting the rest of the syrup off, except for his cock, she had taken him all the way in, as he had shown her how to do when she wanted him to fuck her throat, a request he had immediately obliged. Soon after, he deposited his own milky syrup down her esophagus. Afterwards, he lay down on his back and she put her head on his chest while he stroked her hair.

“Tell me another story,” she pleaded. "What happened after you left the cottage near the waterfall?”

“I made my way to the river, and from there, I found passage on a riverbarge that ferried me downstream. At the place where land and sea met, straddling the mouth of the river with bridges joining the two sides stood Vanirhalla, the capital city, with its beautiful crystal spires that shone like gold when the sun set over the water. It was just before one such sunset that I rode my horse through the gates of the city, and wound my way up hill, to the palace where the Queen of Vanahiem lived.”

Vanahiem, Odin’s reign (Midgardian year 1506)

“You may rise, Prince Loki, and We thank you for exhibiting such humility and grace. Long has it been since a member of the Allfather’s household visited Us in Vanirhalla, and never in Our memory has one shown enough deference as to kneel in supplication.”

He rose slowly from his knees, keeping his eyes steadily on Queen Sköna. He thought he detected a hint of a blush on her cheek as he did so, but it was hard to tell in the rose-gold light of the throne room. That same light illuminated her hair, making it look as if she was crowned with fire.

“Thank you for receiving me without notice, your Majesty. You are as supremely gracious as you are divinely beautiful.”

“You are most welcome,” she said. “A pity Our husband the Prince-Consort is not here to speak to you. He and the Allfather usually meet to discuss Vanaheim’s needs, desires, and obligations to Asgard. When the Allfather summons him to Asgard, at least. Alas, the Prince-Consort has been absent these many months, attending to duties in another part of Our queendom.”

Loki smiled sweetly and put as much sincerity and charm as possible into his next words.

“It is truly a pity that the Prince-Consort is not here. I am certain your Royal Majesty feels his absence...keenly. However, strict adherence to the truth compels me to disclose that I am here unofficially, representing none but myself.” He smiled slightly and licked his lips. “The Allfather neither commissioned nor sanctioned my visit. He does not even know I am here. As such, I recognize that you would be well within your rights to treat me in any way you choose, whether it be to reward me with treasure, or torment. My humble body, my mind, my will—all of my...parts...belong to you.”

She inhaled sharply and he watched the swell of her bosom as her chest rose. She stood and walked forward to the edge of the dais, leaning toward him. From her place on the top riser, she towered over him. His eye level was centered somewhere around her sex, and he made no move to drop his gaze. Instead, he looked directly at the part of her gown where the smooth fabric softly outlined her mound, and licked his lips again before impudently raising his eyes to meet hers boldly.

“Indeed, Prince Loki, what would you have Us do to...receive you?”

“If your Majesty wishes to be accommodating, perhaps we could discuss the particulars in private?”

She raised her voice, changing from the sultry tone she had invoked for him into a hard-edged one.

“Leave Us,” she commanded the room. “Guards, when all but the Prince and Our Royal Self have exited, leave and seal the doors. Let none enter until you are summoned.”

The members of the court fled, guards ushering them out. As soon as the great doors clanged shut, she was down the steps and her mouth was on his. He picked her up in his arms while she devoured his lips and he carried her up the dais. Loki turned and sat on her throne, settling her on his lap. He slid his hands up her thighs, pushing her gown up to her waist and moved one of her legs over his so that she straddled him. She wore no underthings, and she ground her bare sex against the front of his breeches--now tented out around his hardened cock.

Her fingers threaded their way between the lacings at the front of his shirt, and with a strength he was surprised she possessed, she ripped the cloth apart, sundering the garment and pulling the remains of it from his torso.

“No! You ripped my shirt--” he began, alarmed.

She leaned back and slapped him across the face. It was not a hard slap, not something to cause much pain, but rather just to get his attention. A correction.

“We will command a servant to bring you another once We have finished with you.” She dropped her voice and leaned toward him. “Never defy me, in public or in private. You will accept anything, and everything, that I give you. Do you understand?”

If he thought he had been aroused when Sif ordered him about in bed, directing him in how best to pleasure her, it was nothing compared to how he shivered under the words uttered by this Vanir goddess. That she had spoken in the personal, singular pronoun, instead of using the royal plural aroused him more. The intimacy it implied made him even more eager to please her.

“Yes,” he answered.

She slapped him again.

“Yes? Is that how you speak to your Queen, slave?”

He moaned with desire and closed his eyes.

“No, my Queen, your supreme Majesty, goddess I long to worship, sovereign of the kingdom of my body, that is not the proper way to address one as perfect and noble as you. I humbly beg your apology. It shall never happen again, I swear it.”

She smiled and leaned in to kiss his neck.

“You’re a fast learner,” she murmured near his ear. “I like it when a new slave catches on quickly.”

He still had his hands on her hips, and his first instinct was to move them around to the front of her to stroke her clit and bring her pleasure, but then he thought better of acting on his own, lest he receive another correction.

“What would you have me do, Majesty? How shall this fortunate thrall amuse and pleasure his mistress?”

She reached down to her waist where the fabric of her gown had bunched up, laying over the tops of her hips, and pulled the garment off over her head. Her small, firm breasts bounced when released, and he longed desperately to suck them. She must have recognized the lustful flush in his face, for she smiled and thrust one of the rigid cones at him.

“They may be small, but my breasts are most sensitive. Pleasure them with your mouth. Do not move any other part of your body. If you are able to bring me to completion from just that, I will let you worship my cunt next.”

He let out a little moan of desire and brought his head forward, closing his mouth on one of her breasts and sucking into his maw as much of her flesh as he could fit. He watched her while he attended to her, making sure he would know when he was arousing her the most.

Beginning gently, he swirled his tongue around her nipple. Next, he released her breast from his mouth and licked it, starting on the bottom, near her ribs, and licking up the entire way, over her nipple and across the top of her breast back to her chest. He repeated the action with her other breast. After that, he used more force, scraping his teeth against her nipple lightly and blowing against the wet nub, making it tense and grow erect. She seemed to like it when he had used his teeth, so he tried again, biting down harder this time.

Sköna cried out and threw her head back, chest heaving as she drew in ragged breaths.

Oh my, he thought. She likes a little pain. I wonder how much?

He started to alternate between her two breasts, biting, then sucking to soothe them, then blowing on them to harden them, then biting again. A shiver went through her body and she began to grind her sex against his hardness, seeking her release. He answered by pushing his hips up against her slightly, which was a mistake. She pulled herself away from him and slapped him again, hard this time.

“You were commanded to remain still and use your mouth only. When you are disobedient, you will be punished.”

“Yes, Majesty. I beg your forgiveness.”

“You shall have Our forgiveness, if you take your punishment well and stop disobeying Us. Strip your clothes off. And get off Our throne.”

He took his boots off as quickly as he could, then stood and unlaced his breeches. When his cock sprung free, she gave out a little involuntary gasp before she regained control of herself. He had to fight very hard not to smile.

“Turn around, and place one of your hands palm-down on each arm of my throne.”

Loki complied, spreading his legs as he did so. He had to bend over quite far to put his hands against the arms of the throne, and he felt very exposed in that position. Behind him, he could hear her walking across the room, away from him, but he dared not move to see what she was doing. He heard one of the throne room doors open, and her voice murmured a low command, which was answered by a short word of obedience from a male voice. A moment later, the doors closed again and she walked back toward him. He could hear the swishing silk of her gown, and it made his cock begin to leak precum, which pooled at his tip.

“This is what happens when a slave is disobedient. You will take your punishment willingly. You will thank Us for correcting your mistakes. You will praise Our benevolence. Do you understand?”

“Absolutely, your Majesty, most lovely of goddesses.”

She chuckled slightly.

“Flatter Us all you want, it will not save you from the lash. You may cry out while you are being punished, but speak no words except those We give you. Repeat the words, and when I have corrected you, Thank Us for it.

Now, repeat: ‘I will obey my Queen in all things.’”

“I will obey my Queen in all things.”

The strap in her hand came down with a snap, whizzing through the air. It landed on his bare ass, stinging like nothing he had ever felt before.

“Ahhhhh!” he cried, tears coming to his eyes. Speak no words but those she gives you, and your praise and thanks, he thought. “Thank you, Majesty, benevolent benefactress.”

Loki clenched his teeth and breathed in through his nose deeply, trying to control the pain he felt.

“‘Benevolent benefactress?’ We shall see if you are so glib once your punishment truly begins. Repeat: ‘I will be still when I am told to be still.’”

“I will be still when I am told to be still,” he repeated.

This time, since he knew what was coming, he anticipated the strap, which only made it hurt worse when it fell on a different part of his backside than the first blow.

“Naahhhhhh!” he screamed. Tears were flowing down his face now. How could she inflict so much pain? His cock was the only part of him that did not seem to know that the rest of him was suffering. He was so aroused and hard that it was becoming a torment. He longed to touch himself, or for her to touch him. He tried to hold his release back, as he was certain she would punish him if he came before she gave him leave. “Thank you, Majesty...sweetest and most lovely of women, more beautiful than all the stars in the firmament.”

“‘My body belongs to my sovereign, it is she who owns me.’”

“My body…” he caught his breath as the pain pulsed through him before he continued. “...belongs to my sovereign. It is she who owns me.”

Thwaaaaaack!

His knees buckled but he recovered by digging his fingers against the arms of the throne. Another like that and he was not certain he could remain standing.

“Thank you, Majesty, she who is kinder than all the Queens in the nine realms, and stronger than all its Kings.”

She laughed outright at that, but she stifled her laughter quickly.

“‘I will submit myself to my Queen, and I worship at her feet.’

“I will submit myself to my Queen, and I worship at her feet.” The words choked out around his sobs, both of pain and of longing. He prepared himself for the next strike, which would surely make him buckle and fall prostrate before her. He only hoped she would take pity on him when he collapsed, instead of punishing him further. He closed his eyes.

No fourth blow arrived. Instead, he felt her place her hand on his lower back.

“My dear pretty slave boy, you were very brave. You deserve a reward now.”

He noticed she had ceased using the Royal pronoun again. Did that mean she was truly pleased with him? She reached her hand around his body, sliding it across his hip until she reached the front.

“Come, my lovely,” she whispered near his ear as she grasped his member.

He exploded, sending his seed spurting across her throne while she pumped him with her hand. He finished and she released his cock. Spent and heaving in exhaustion, he dropped to his knees. She put her hand under his chin and stroked his face.

“My, my. You certainly do produce a large quantity of that, don’t you?”

He was unable to speak yet, so he merely nodded. She bent at the waist and stuck out her tongue, licking a broad swath across the seat of her throne, lapping up his fluid.

“Mmmmmm. Delicious,” she said. “You taste just as good as you look. Do you enjoy the taste of yourself?”

“I don’t...I really have not…” he began.

She gave a deep, throaty chuckle.

“Well, then, you should. Be a good slave now. Clean my throne with your tongue.”

He crawled forward until he could reach the seat. Tentatively he licked at one of the spatters. The salty-sweet mixture surprised him. It was slightly bitter, but not terribly so. He licked more, closing his eyes and trying to savor the taste, to explore its texture on his tongue. She placed her hand on top of his head and he opened his eyes, looking up at her from his place beneath her.

She sat down on the throne, throwing her legs wide and draping them over the throne’s arms. He was staring directly into her cunt, beautiful and pink.

“Keep cleaning, slave. There is much on this throne that still requires your tongue. Start with my breasts.. You still owe me a release from them alone.”

He grew hard again without even using his spell.

He attacked her breasts with his mouth, sucking and biting them as hard as he thought he could without truly hurting her. With a groan, she soon found release and he rode it out, slowing his motions on the breast he was currently mouthing, but not removing it until she relaxed.

“Very good, slave. Now you may fuck me with your tongue. If you can make me come a second time, I will allow you to pleasure me with your cock.”

Looking into her eyes the entire time, he slid down until his face was in her lap and drew his tongue up her slightly gaping slit. Sköna moaned and grabbed his head with her hand, pushing him against her. He pushed his tongue inside and began to swirl it against her walls. He found her spot inside and started stroking it with the tip of his tongue. She pulled her legs off the arms of the throne and put them onto his shoulders, pushing her puss into his face. He wanted to bury himself in her so badly! He needed her to find her release so she would let him fuck her, but without being able to touch her clit, he wasn’t sure he could bring her to completion. Then, in what he later felt was a flash of unprecedented brilliance, even for him, he realized that he could use his shapeshifting ability. Slowly, he concentrated on only changing his tongue, making it longer and wider, until it filled her from wall to wall. Ramming his face against her opening, he fucked her with his tongue-cock until she screamed his name.

“Loki! Loki fuck me. Fuck your Queen.”

She came, juices flooding his face.

“You are a precious little toy, my dear. You have done so well. Now, delve into me with that huge cock of yours.”

He stood and grabbed her by the waist, lifting her off the throne. He carried her to the edge of the throne room, where thick crystal windows looked out over the sea. Pushing her back against the window, he rammed her cunt down onto his cock and started to fuck her with a furious pace. After a few moments, she seemed to notice finally that any passers by who chanced to look up at the palace just then might see the backside of their Queen as she was being pounded into the crystal by the Asgardian Prince.

Loki realized she was about to command him to move her somewhere with less exposure, but he found the idea that they might be watched thrilling. Before she could say a word, he latched his mouth onto hers, fucking her mouth with his tongue, which was still somewhat enlarged. In surprise, she made a noise against his mouth, but he would not relent, thrusting into her at both ends.

She grunted and moaned as she came again. Once she subsided, he removed his tongue from her mouth.

“My Queen,” he said, “will you allow this worthless slave to fill your perfect cunt with his seed?”

“Come inside me, Loki,” she gasped out.

He thrust into her hard twice more and with a great shout, filled her.

One of her servants brought him a fine tunic cut in the Asgardian style. It was red, which did not suit him at all, but it was better than striding about the palace in breeches and nothing else. At least his breeches were black and didn’t clash with the tunic.

Queen Sköna had him installed in a guest suite on the same hallway as her own rooms. Every night for a full month, she visited him after dark. Sometimes, they played the master and slave game, and sometimes, she even let him be the master. She taught him a long and rich catalogue of positions and techniques, although she admitted that he had done remarkably well on his own before her tutelage. She was aghast when she discovered she was only the third (and a half) woman he had lain with.

“Surely the maidens of Asgard have thrown themselves at the feet of such a handsome Prince?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, stroking her hair. They were laying in the bed in his room after a particularly vigorous session of lovemaking. The full moon was filling the room with such light that there was no need of candles. He could see clearly the outline of her form where she lay against his chest, her hair spread out like silk under his fingers. “They prefer my brother.”

“Thor? I met him the last time an Asgardian delegation came to my realm. He seemed...dim.”

Loki laughed. “Apparently, that doesn’t matter to the women of my land. They all want his golden hair and his blue eyes and his bulging muscles. If he were so brainless that he could not even speak, they would likely still want him betwixt their legs.”

He tried not to let the bitterness seep into his voice when he spoke of Thor. His brother was a constant source of pain to him. Unlike Odin, whom Loki only respected and wanted the approval of, Thor he deeply loved. His brother was, with the exception of their mother, the closest person to his heart. That was why it hurt him so when Thor teased him, took maidens to his bed once he realized Loki was interested in them, and generally behaved like a jackass. The most frustrating thing, however, was that Thor was NOT dim. He wasn’t as intellectual as Loki, certainly, and he had read many, many fewer books, but he wasn’t entirely witless. Nonetheless, Thor chose to spend most of his days fighting or drinking, but usually both at the same time, rather than in some worthy pursuit. When he wasn’t doing one of those activities, and sometimes while he was doing at least one of them, he was also thrusting his member into any woman who would hold still long enough for him to get it in. He had no restraint, very little sense of dignity, and a hot temper that got him into trouble more often than it got him out. He frequently led The Warriors Three, Sif, and even Loki into that trouble with him, because for all his flaws, he had the innate ability to charm people with his affable, giant, ridiculous, smiling, blond presence. That ability allowed him to get away with just about anything. The only reason Loki had been branded as the God of Mischief was that Thor’s pranks and chaotic actions were laughed off and smiled at by everyone--from their father down to the lowliest servants, whereas Loki’s most minor indiscretion was treated like an assault on the dignity of the Royal House of Asgard. From Loki’s perspective, Thor actually created more trouble than he himself ever did.

All this would be irrelevant if Thor were some butcher’s son. But he wasn’t. He was the eldest Prince of Asgard. Someday, Odin would succumb to the Odinsleep, no doubt leaving Thor in charge of the realm, and Loki shuddered to think what would happen then. The enemies of Asgard would sense their weakness, and without Odin’s supremacy to hold them at bay, all manner of villains might decide Thor’s inept leadership left the realm vulnerable to attack. As he drifted off to sleep, Loki’s final thoughts were ones he would never have allowed himself if he had not been so tired and frustrated with his brother. If only he were the eldest. He knew he could rule with a steady hand. Let Thor debauch himself into an early grave, Loki would keep Asgard safe from its adversaries.


	19. One Week Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Chapter 18, still in Vanahiem, Odin’s reign (Midgardian year 1506)
> 
> Loki meets an interesting family and gets a new wardrobe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I didn't post for a month, I'm putting up two chapters today. 
> 
> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: anal sex, vaginal sex, oral sex, M/F, M/M

The Prince-Consort returned a week later, and to avoid any sense of impropriety, Queen Sköna gave Loki one final, incredible fuck and then sent him on his way. It wasn’t that the Prince-Consort didn’t know what his wife was up to, just that they had an agreement she would only take other lovers when he was away. She told Loki he was welcome to return any time her husband was not at home, and he told her he would try to do so.

He took a room at the finest inn in Vanirhalla. The innkeeper set Loki up with what passed for entertainment there, but he found it boring, so he began each day to walk about town seeking his own diversions from the banality of daily life. In the heart of the city was a great marketplace where colored tents had been erected on a plaza, making a city-within-a-city full of sights, sounds, and smells that ranged from repugnant to divine. Loki wandered its avenues in the summer heat, letting his fancy draw him wherever it led. One such afternoon, he found a little tent tucked back in the corner of the bazaar, quite out of the way, and going unnoticed by the majority of patrons.

There were four exceptionally pretty women there, selling cloth. Loki allowed himself to wander over slowly, pretending he was interested in the silks, but in fact, assessing the women themselves. One was older, perhaps in late middle age, though she was as trim and lively as the younger three, who appeared to be within a few years of each other’s ages. There was a strong family resemblance between them, and when one of the young women called the older woman ‘móðir,’ it confirmed his suspicion that they were mother and daughters.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat to get the women’s attention. “Please, madam, how much for this bolt of green silk?”

“The entire bolt?” the mother asked. “No one buys an entire bolt, sir, but if one were to do so, it would be…” she flashed her fingers at him quickly in the way of the shopkeepers there, showing him how many gold pieces he would have to part with.

“And for the bolt of black?” he asked, gesturing to another pile of silk.

She motioned again, a price significantly higher than the green, most likely because few here seemed to wear green clothes, but black was currently much in fashion.

“The price is good,” he said, keeping his face neutral as her eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened, “but alas, though I am sorely in need of new raiment, I know of no tailor who could craft such items for me. Does the shopmistress know…?”

He left the question hanging in the air, and she nodded immediately.

“Indeed, good sir,” she began, having shifted her tone to one of flattery and persuasion. “My husband is the finest tailor in Vanaheim, and were you to purchase our silks, he would sew any garments you wished for a fraction of the cost you would pay in…” she looked him over carefully, assessing the cut of his clothing with an expert eye. “In Asgard,” she finished.

He nodded and smiled at her cleverness for discerning his point of origin. He strongly doubted her husband was really the finest tailor in Vanaheim, but he needed clothes, and he abhorred shopping, so fewer stops meant more time to himself to look for other entertainments.

“Then I believe we have a bargain,” he said. 

“What?! No haggling?” she asked. She had put her hand on her chest covering her heart, and Loki felt terrible that he had startled her so badly.

“Well, if you insist I attempt to argue a lower price out of you, I will oblige, but I would much rather simply pay your fee and have your husband fit me.” 

He pulled the appropriate number of gold coins out of his travel-purse and laid them on top of the black silk in front of her. The woman reached for the coins, then hesitated with her hand over them as her eyes narrowed suddenly, as if she thought his offer was too good to be true. 

“Is this a trick? Are you from the guild?”

 Loki laughed. “I assure you, madam, no guild would have me, even if I knew a trade. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard.”

All four women dropped into curtseys and Loki allowed it for a brief moment before forestalling them.

“Please, ladies, there is no need for such things here. I am a Prince in my own realm, but in this one, I am merely a traveler in need of a new wardrobe.”

He took the mother’s hand over the table as she rose, and, bending low, he kissed the back of it graciously. At the last moment, he flicked his eyes up to hers and smiled seductively, just for an instant, dropping his face back to pleasant nothingness before any of the daughters noticed. The shopmistress flushed all the way from her hair to her decolletage. 

“Thank you for your patronage, your Highness,” she said, scooping the coins into her hand and pocketing them. “I am Lykke Nilsdottr. These are my children, Maja, Juni, and Tuva.” The girls each curtseyed again briefly as their mother called out their names.

“Such a lovely family you have, but surely you cannot be their mother! You are barely old enough to be married, much less to have three grown daughters.”

The woman blushed again, but her daughters' reactions were wonderful in what they revealed to him about each girl’s personality. The first daughter rolled her eyes, the second grinned at him and bit her lower lip in what he assumed was an attempt to be seductive, and the third suppressed a snort of laughter by pretending to sneeze.

“You flatter me, your Highness,” Lykke said.

“I only speak truth,” said the Smith of Lies.

“Maja, you and your sisters mind the shop. I’m going to take his Highness over to the house so your father can start sewing.”

The girls looked disappointed that he was leaving them, so he took the hand of each, one by one, kissing them as he had their mother, who gathered up the two bolts of silk and set off down the lane. Loki stopped her and gently took the silks from her hands.

“Please allow me to carry these,” he said, dropping his voice low. “I wouldn’t want such a beautiful, delicate creature as you to strain herself.”

“Your Highness is truly too kind,” she said. He could hear desire creeping into her voice.

The husband, whose name was Brant, measured Loki and set out to sew several garments from the bolts of green and black silk. While he worked, Lykke invited Loki into their kitchen for tea. Loki took one of the scones she offered him and bit into it. He closed his eyes, threw his head back, and moaned, savoring the taste. After he swallowed, he licked his lips. When he opened his eyes, she was looking at him lustfully, her breathing labored.

“Why, Lykke, what troubles you, my sweet?” he asked. He moved around the table to stand in front of her. She was so tiny she only came up to his breast, so he bent forward to bring his face closer to hers. He lay his hand over her heart, which was throbbing madly. “Are you quite well, my lovely one? I think perhaps you should lie down somewhere...quiet, and private, for a rest.”

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea,” she said. She sounded dazed.

Loki dropped his other hand to hers and slid the one over her heart up to her neck, stroking it softly.

“Where shall we go?” he whispered.

Lykke let out a small gasp and walked to the stairs, drawing him with her. On the floor above, she led him into a bedroom. As soon as they were across the threshold, he pulled her into his embrace and locked his mouth to hers. While he moved her backwards, toward the bed, he reached around behind her and unlaced her dress. She wasted no time, skipping his tunic entirely and untying his breeches instead. Her hand plunged down into his nether region and she slid her hand along his cock, which was as hard as stone.

“You’re so big,” she said with wonder.

“Mmmhmmm,” he murmured as he slipped her dress off. He started to remove her stays but she stopped him.

 “No, leave that. I…”

“Beautiful one, are you having second thoughts?” he asked. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I don’t want you to stop but…I am a married woman. I would feel worse about sharing with you things that I share with my husband than I would feel about sharing...other things.”

“I see. What ‘other things’ did you have in mind?” he asked.

“My husband has made three children upon me, so you know he’s had that. And I’ve put it in my mouth a few times. But he’s never...I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have…”

Could she...did she mean what he thought she meant? 

“You wish for me to take you in your _other_ orifice?” he asked.

She blushed again.

“Yes. But you’re so big, I’m not sure if...it looks like it would tear me apart,” she said with a worried note in her voice.

Loki smiled.

“You are in luck this day, my lovely one. Have you heard that of the two Princes of Asgard, one is a fighter, and the other a sorcerer?”

“I had heard that, yes.”

“I am not the fighter,” he said.

“Oh. And what can a sorcerer do that a fighter cannot?” she asked.

“This,” he said. He began to shapeshift, only a little, reducing his size from something terrifying to something she might find more pleasing. “Is that better?” he asked.

She smiled widely.

“Much better. That I am sure I can accommodate.”

He had never taken a woman in the anus before, but Sköna had told him about it. It wasn’t something she enjoyed, so she wasn’t willing to let him experiment, but she had explained that some positions were easier for it than others, and how to go about it without causing severe injury to one’s partner.

“Have you any oil?” he asked.

“Oil? No, I don’t think so. Well, we have lamp oil…”

“No, certainly not,” he said. The idea of pouring a flammable liquid on himself and her made him shudder. “I mean something slick.”

“Butter?” she asked.

It wasn’t what Sköna had recommended, but it couldn’t be worse than nothing. He nodded and she ran to the kitchen to scoop some butter out of her crock. While she was gone, he removed the rest of his clothes and lay down on the bed.

When she returned, he made her climb onto the bed with him and lay down on her side. Removing her underclothes, he first kissed her on the neck and reached around her body to stroke her between her legs. She sighed and moaned as he moved his hand faster, rubbing her clit with his nimble fingers. In next to no time, she was coming, stifling her cries in the pillow so her husband, who was in the workshop just below the window, would not hear. 

Loki spread her cheeks gently and rubbed some of the butter on her ring. He massaged it in small, slow circles, pushing against it a little harder each time until finally his finger breached her and pushed inside a tiny bit. Lykke made a small gasp.

“Is that alright, darling?” he asked while nibbling on her neck.

“Yes, it feels odd, but also nice,” she said.

He started to move his finger in and out slowly, working it inside a little more each time until she had taken him as far as she could. He removed his finger gently and put more butter onto that finger and the one next to it. He started massaging again, this time with both fingers, and when she loosened, he pushed both inside. She arched against him and let out a moan that told him he was doing something right. As he had with the single finger, he moved the two into and out of her until she took him as far as his hand would go.

“Are you ready, my sweet?” he whispered. She nodded and gave him a throaty “mmmhmm” in reply.

Placing the head of his cock at her entrance, he pushed forward very slowly but steadily. When he thought he wouldn’t be able to take the pressure much longer, and that he might not be doing it correctly, the head finally popped through her opening.

“Oh...oh my,” she exclaimed. “That feels tight.”

“Still doing well?” 

“Yes.”

He began to push into her more, only going in as far as he could before he felt a great amount of resistance. Then, he pulled back until only the head was still inside, and pushed in again. He repeated the process, moving a little farther inside each time, until he was fully seated within her.

“Now, I’m going to start moving faster. If this hurts too much, or you want me to stop, just tell me,” he said. He reached his arms around her, lifting her slightly off the bed so he could slide one arm underneath and laying the other over the top of her. Holding her torso against his chest, he began to work himself in and out of her ass rhythmically. It felt incredible. She was so tight around him that he had to focus very heavily on regulating his breathing so he did not release too fast.

After a few minutes of this, while she made various small mewls of pleasure, he decided it was time for the next step.

“I’m going to roll us over so you are face down.”

He thrust fully into her and rolled, pulling her under him as he did so. She was now flat on her stomach on the bed and he was laying on her back. Before he could cause her discomfort with his greater weight upon her small frame, he pulled back so that he was more on his knees. He slid his hands down her body to her hips and used them to guide her body upwards. She was still impaled on his cock.

Without having so much contact with the bed, he could move much more freely, and he did so, thrusting into her and swirling his hips in circles. He reached under her with one hand and fingered her clit while he stroked, and she again had to stifle her cries of pleasure into the pillow. In what seemed no time at all, she came. Panting and exhausted, she leaned her upper half against the bed, her ass in the air, while he started to increase his speed.

“Are you still enjoying this? Not hurting you too much?”

“Yes, please keep doing it, don’t stop,” she groaned wearily.

He obliged her. In a few more minutes, he felt his orgasm rising, spreading through his nether region. He came inside of her and once he was done, he gently removed himself. Her ass was stretched and it gaped open at him. He lay down next to her on the bed.

Lykke turned toward him, her eyes peering into his.

“Was it all you hoped for?” he asked.

“I have never felt anything like it,” she answered. “Even my husband, who knows my body as well as he knows his own, has never made me feel like that.”

Loki smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

“I am glad you enjoyed it, my sweet. I did as well.”

“How long?” she asked.

“How long until what?”

“Until you can go again?”

He laughed in surprise.

“You wish to have me again so soon?”

She nodded shyly. “If you want to,” she said.

In response, he kissed her, hard, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She moaned against him and he pushed her over onto her back this time and positioned himself between her thighs.

“Wait, no. I wanted you in my...in my ass again,” she said. “Not the other.”

“I know,” he said slyly. “You’ll see.”

He lifted the lower half of her body and spread her legs. He grabbed the pillow he had been leaning on a moment before and shoved it under her lower back to raise her to the correct height, and then he put his cock at her opening again. It was still relaxed and he had no trouble whatsoever pushing inside of her. In two thrusts, he was fully within her and she shoved her fist into her mouth to stop herself from crying out as he plunged into her. He touched her and rubbed her in all the ways he knew to elicit pleasure from a woman’s nub, and in next to no time, they both came again. This time, he didn’t withdraw, but hardened himself again and repeated. Again and again he did it, changing positions from time to time. By the end of the afternoon, she was so sated and exhausted she could barely remain conscious. While she dozed, he got a cloth from her washstand and cleaned her up gently. He picked her up and, holding her with one arm as only a god would have the strength to do, he pulled back the bedclothes and placed her within. After he had cleaned himself and dressed, he went down to the kitchen to drink more tea and wait for his clothes.

Eventually the three daughters came home. Finding their father in the workshop and Loki in their kitchen, they inquired after their mother. 

“Your mother wasn’t feeling well, so I believe she went upstairs to bed.”

“Oh, I should go check on her,” said Tuva.

“I need to talk to faðir,” said Maja.

This left him alone in the kitchen with Juni. Juni was the one who had bitten her lip lustfully when he complimented her mother. She wasted no time, and as soon as her sisters were out of the room, attacked him, her mouth on his, teeth biting his lips and fingers tearing at his hair. Loki was startled, but she was very pretty, so he didn’t resist at all.

“We haven’t much time,” she said after she pulled away from him. “Soon enough, Maja will have her question answered and Tuva will come back as well. You’d better fuck me before they return.”

She pulled up her skirt and shed her underclothes, which she stuffed into her bosom so they wouldn’t be laying about.

“You look strong. Can you just lift me?” she asked.

Loki stifled his laughter that the girl was so forward. He took his cock out of his breeches. It was already hard, of course. It seemed to be constantly hard these days. He bent down to put his arms under her thighs, and pulled her up in one smooth motion. He held her easily at the right height and lowered her onto his cock. He could lean her against the wall, he supposed, and thrust into her, using the leverage of the wall to carry her weight. Or, he could simply lift her onto and off of his cock. He chose the latter.

She clung to his neck and kissed and bit him gently, but she never made a sound. Even when she shook and shuddered as she came, she was silent as a mouse. Loki smothered his own moans in her shoulder as he shot into her.

He put her down and she retrieved her undergarments, putting them back on. He had just finished lacing his breeches and sat down in the chair he had vacated earlier when Tuva came down stairs. 

“I have work to do before supper,” Juni said, leaving by the kitchen door. Tuva, the daughter who had laughed, looked at Loki sweetly.

“More tea, your Highness?” she asked.

“Thank you, dear girl,” he said.

Tuva’s face was full of mirth, and he wondered what mischief she was planning. She brought the kettle to the table and filled his cup. As she leaned over, he was treated to a clear view of her breasts, which seemed to almost spill out of her bodice. When she straightened, he saw why. She had loosened the laces of her dress substantially, allowing her orbs to move more freely.

“Does his Highness like the tea?” she asked, giggling a little.

“Very much,” he replied. 

“Does his Highness like the view?” she asked, pulling her bodice open more so that now her breasts were truly exposed. She raised one pale hand to her nipple and rubbed it with her thumb.

“I like the view even more,” Loki said.

“Would his Highness like a little something to put in his mouth to tide him over until supper?” she asked, pinching her nipple between two fingers.

He laughed at her clever joking. She was, in her own way, as bold as her sister.

He pulled her onto his lap and started to work on her breasts with his mouth. She reached in front of her body and somehow managed to get his cock out without unlacing his breeches entirely.

He ran his hand up her thigh and when he reached her hip, he realized she was not even wearing underthings. It took him almost no effort to slide her forward and lift her onto his cock. The weight of her body pulled her down onto him as soon as he pushed in the tip. Once she was against him, his cock fully inside, she started grinding her hips against his. Even though they were both barely moving, her cunt was so tight that he could feel every slight gyration of her pelvis. She reached between them and rubbed her clit furiously, even though she was almost stilled against him. She came soon after, and the clenching of her walls was so strong he came right after.

Without even a word, but with her eyes sparkling with sweet laughter, she climbed off him and went to the other side of the kitchen to peel root vegetables, as if nothing had ever happened.

The door opened and Maja stuck her head in.

“I beg your pardon, your Highness, but there is a barrel that is too heavy for me to lift. Could you see it in your heart to help me? I know it is beneath your station to perform tasks of manual labor, but—“

“Not at all,” he said. “Of course I will help you. What kind of Prince would I be if I did not help a maiden in distress?”

He followed her outside. Behind the house was a small garden, and at the end of it was a shed of some kind. She went inside and he followed, closing the door behind him.

It was dim inside, but he could see it was used for a great deal of storage. Barrels, crates, cases, and other assorted containers were stacked about. One of the barrels was pulled out a few thumb lengths from the rest. Maja put her arms around the top of the barrel and made a great effort to slide it out farther. It would not budge. She stood back so he could approach.

“Where would you like me to move it?” he asked.

“Here, “ she said, pointing to a place on the opposite side of the shed.

Loki picked up the barrel easily and set it down where she had pointed.

“Your Highness is very strong,” she said with a slight smirk. This was the cynical girl, the one who had rolled her eyes. 

She crossed the shed to where he had moved the barrel. At that moment, she stopped trying to make her attempt to seduce him into anything else and simply hiked her skirt to her waist. Another sister who did not believe in undergarments. She leaned over the top of the barrel he had just moved, spreading her legs wide and exposing her slit to him.

“Perhaps your Highness could stuff me full of his hot throbbing cock?”

By the Norns! This one was bolder than her mother and sisters combined. He answered her by taking out his cock and sheathing himself in her as she had asked. They didn’t speak and she moaned very quietly. He was already so stimulated by all the activity of the day that he was ready to come very soon. Luckily, she was also quickly pleased, and he felt her fluttering around him a moment later. He waited until she was relaxed and then allowed himself to spill into her.

“Thank you, your Highness,” she said as she left the shed and headed back to the house without him.

Loki was amused by the events of the day. He had fucked four very pretty women in as many hours, all in the same house, and ostensibly without any of them knowing he had been with the others. Then again, it was possible that they did know, and their coming and going from areas of the house at different times that had left him alone with each of them in succession was coordinated. At least, the three daughters may have been. Their mother had not had time to discuss anything with the girls before she had brought him to the house, so it was likely she was acting on her own. But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that the three sisters had played an elaborate game with each other, passing him back and forth between them like a game-piece.

Not that he minded. They were all lovely, and he was glad to have been able to touch each of them, as hurried as it was.

As he left the shed, Brant called out to him from the workshop, which sat adjacent to the house. 

“Your Highness? If you could step inside, I would like to try fitting these garments to you before my supper. I will not be able to complete the work until tomorrow, but it will go more smoothly if your Highness would indulge this simple tailor for a moment.” 

Loki entered the workshop and the tailor began fitting different pieces to his body, pinning and tapering the cloth where he needed it.

“Could your Highness remove his breeches?” Brant asked. “I must fit these to you,” and he held up a pair of silk breeches that were partially sewn. 

Loki removed his breeches and hoped the tailor didn’t notice the smell of sex that was sure to be hanging upon his nether regions. The tailor held the breeches against Loki’s body and smoothed the fabric with his hands, pinning it here and there. He started on the back, and Loki felt slightly ticklish as the man stroked his hands over the fabric covering Loki’s rear. The man moved around to the front and repeated the process on the front, smoothing the fabric against Loki’s crotch. Loki closed his eyes and let the man work. The tailor seemed to be having trouble getting the fabric to lay properly against the bulge in the front of Loki’s undergarments. He was rubbing his hand back and forth, and Loki tried to remember the exact ingredients of a complicated potion to avoid allowing his body to react to the man’s touch in an inappropriate manner. 

“Your Highness, I humbly beg your pardon, but this style of pant is meant to be worn without undergarments, and the fabric of your Highness’s underthings is interfering with proper fitting. Would you mind terribly removing them?”

Loki was unsure whether or not that was a wise idea. If he was having trouble controlling his reaction now, how much worse would it be if the man touched his naked flesh? Still, the tailor was only trying to do his job. It would be unfair for Loki to prevent the man from doing his job just because his touch was having unintended consequences on Loki’s body. He pulled down his undergarments and removed them from his legs. The tailor’s eyes seemed to be fixed on Loki’s cock. 

“Very good, your Highness,” Brant said. He laid the soft silk against Loki’s body and began pressing it into the seams of his crotch. Soon, the man was again rubbing his hand back and forth across the fabric, smoothing it, but also stroking Loki’s cock. The God of Mischief felt himself hardening. He willed himself to not react, and tried to think of anything else to distract himself, but it was no use. He felt himself blushing as his cock rose, straining against the silk and pressing into the tailor’s hand.

“Does this feel good, your Highness?” The tailor asked. “Is it too tight?”

The tailor was kneeling on the floor, looking straight up into Loki’s face as he continued stroking. Suddenly, Loki felt very foolish that he had not realized the tailor’s movements had been purposeful, the stimulation of his member intentional. He looked down at the other man. _Well_ ...he thought. _Why not?_

“The silk feels wonderful,” Loki said. “But I seem to have developed another problem. How will I ever be able to wear such breeches, if my cock grows hard just from being fitted for them?”

The tailor smiled. 

“If his Highness will permit me, I can remedy that problem.”

Loki nodded. The tailor dropped the silk and took Loki’s erect cock in his hand. He snaked his tongue out and gave a lick, from the base of the shaft to the tip in one long, smooth motion. The man moaned in pleasure.

“Your Highness tastes like a god,” the man whispered.

“I _am_ a God,” Loki said as the man’s mouth enveloped him.

He thought it might be different with a man, and in a way, it was. The man whose lips were sliding over his stiff member certainly knew exactly what to do with a cock, likely because he had one of his own. While he sucked, Brant caressed Loki’s ass with his hands, bringing one of them around to stroke the god’s sac as well. The tailor was moaning each time he bobbed his head. Abruptly, he pulled his mouth off Loki and let out a sigh. 

“Your Highness’s cock tastes like Valhalla. I think I have never tasted anything so sweet in all my days,” he said. He was slowly pumping Loki with his hand.

Loki considered the man’s words. Already this day, Loki’s cock had been inside this man’s wife’s ass, and inside the cunts of all three of his daughters. It was the sweet juices of the lovely ladies of the house, not Loki’s flesh, that gave it the taste the man was praising so heartily. Loki could not suppress his laughter at the thought. 

“Does it taste like anything in particular?” he teased.

“No, my Lord. Only sweet, and delicious.”

So...the man must never have tasted a woman’s juices before, or at least not often enough to recognize the taste. Interesting.

“I must admit,” Loki said, “I was cautious about allowing a man to service me, but you are doing admirably well. Clearly you have done this before.”

“Oh yes, my Lord. Many, many times. My wife, as lovely as she is, cannot give me all that I desire.”

“And what you desire is a thick, hot cock filling your throat?”

The tailor nodded and smiled.

“Are you going to just tease me, or will you bring me to my release in your mouth?” Loki asked.

“If your Highness wishes it, I will swallow any gift he gives me. Or, he may take me from behind.”

Loki’s heart skipped a beat. He had already violated the mistress of the house anally. Would he do the same to its master?

“I...think I am not ready for that. Yet.” he said. “But if you will put your delectable mouth on me again, I believe I can fill you with something you will enjoy.”

Brant took the god into his mouth once more, putting both hands back onto Loki’s cheeks and pulling his hips towards him. Loki wasn’t even moving, just allowing the tailor to sway his body so that he fucked the man’s mouth with long, smooth strokes. He could feel Brant’s tongue swirling around him as he pulled out, and then flattening to make room as Loki filled him again. It was beginning to feel almost unimaginably pleasurable. Perhaps it was simply that the man was skilled with his mouth, or because there was still a thrill of possibly being caught, if one of the ladies should decide to visit the workshop, or because it was his first time with a man, but for whatever reason, Loki felt himself drifting into a state of sublimity, and he leaned his head back, letting Brant take complete control. He felt like he was floating in a warm ocean. His release was creeping up, starting to take him over, and he gasped as his balls tightened. Brant noticed the signs of Loki’s impending orgasm and sucked harder. Loki exploded into the man’s mouth, his hips thrusting involuntarily as he spasmed. Brant clung onto Loki’s ass, keeping the god’s cock sheathed in his warm mouth while Loki came.

He pulled out gently and Brant closed his eyes, savoring the taste of Loki’s cum in his mouth before he swallowed and licked his lips.

“Mmmmm. My Lord was right,” he said. “I did enjoy it. Very much. I am honored to have been able to give your Highness pleasure. How difficult it must be for you here, in a strange land, with no companionship.”

Loki chuckled. If the man only knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the butter. It was either that, or seal blubber. I decided butter was less horrific.


	20. Dinner, and Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki samples the local cuisine and teaches a girl to ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. More smut. So much smut. No plot, just smut.
> 
> Chapter-specific tags/warnings: oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, clone Lokis, girl Loki, M/F, F/F, M/M/F

Brant surprised Loki again by asking him to stay for supper with the family. The men went back into the house and found that the mistress was awake again. She and the daughters had apparently spent all the time that Brant had been “fitting” Loki to prepare the evening meal.

The supper was nothing like anything Loki had ever experienced before. “Family” meals for the Royal Asgardians were generally not private affairs, but instead included most of the members of Odin’s court, any visiting dignitaries, and other guests who were invited for various reasons. He could not remember, in the entirety of his long life, a time when Odin, Frigga, Thor, and himself had sat down to a meal together, with no one else. He also could not remember a time any of them had talked and laughed amongst themselves so freely as Brant Stellanson and his family. Even he and Thor hadn’t done so since they were small boys. Watching them, he suddenly came to the realization that _this_ was what love looked like. These people weren’t bound merely by the standards of society that said they should behave as a family, they _were_ a family. And Loki’s family...was not. The family in front of him was like a continent, a single, contiguous landmass bound together at every facet. His own family was an archipelago, each individual self-contained, connected to the next by proximity, but not joined to it in any substantial way. A sudden sadness and a feeling of great loss washed over him and he felt his eyes begin to tear. Quickly, before anyone else could see, he blinked them back and bent his will to suppress the surge of emotion that threatened to unman him.

After the meal, Brant returned to his workshop to continue sewing Loki’s garments. The daughters retired to bed, and as he was gathering his things to leave, Lykke asked him to stay.

“We have a room that is empty but for a bed. It’s not as nice as the inn you’re probably staying in, but it would save you the walk back until the morning.”

Unspoken in her gentle eyes was the promise that if he were here, in the house, she could give him her body again. He nodded and let her draw him up the stairs. The room was small, but Loki felt enveloped by the warmth of these people, so he didn’t mind the humility of the circumstances.

“For the moment, perhaps a room with a slightly large bed would be in order,” he said seductively, kissing her neck below her earlobe. She nodded and led him down the hall to the room they had occupied earlier. He had been too preoccupied that afternoon to truly assess the room, but now he saw it was small and rather plain, with a marriage bed barely wide enough for two. Loki’s bed in his suite in Asgard had been much larger than this, as had the bed in Sköna’s palace. However, he didn’t want to shame this sweet woman with the shabbiness of her residence, so he did not let his reaction betray anything. Lykke followed him into the room and closed the door softly.

“The girls were up early. They’ve gone up to their rooms and won’t wake until morning. And Brant didn’t rise until well after noon. He’ll be out in the workshop all night.”

“Let me see you fully. I want to undress you, let your hair be free. I want to see everything about you,” he said.

Lykke blushed and nodded passively. Loki moved behind her and began to loosen her braid. Once her hair was down, he reached around to her bodice and slowly unlaced her dress. She leaned back into his body and he kissed her neck and shoulder. Once her dress was undone, it slid from her body easily and pooled at her feet. He continued removing her clothes slowly, sensually, stroking her skin with his hands and planting light kisses anywhere that seemed relevant. When she was bare, he stood back to look at her.

“You are magnificent,” he whispered. He removed his own clothing as she watched. Sitting down on the narrow bed, he pulled her into his lap and she put her arms around his neck.

“I have been thinking,” he said. “You do not wish me to perform upon you any acts that your husband performs. So you will not take my manhood into your mouth, nor let me thrust into your lovely womb. You have allowed me to ravage your ass,” he said, and she giggled, for he had not so much ravaged her as he had simply given her the most unbelievable pleasure she had ever experienced. “What other acts have you never been indulged in?” he asked.

“I am not certain, your Highness,” she replied. “Unfortunately, I know very little about the art of love.”

“That is untrue, my lovely,” he countered. “You are a most attentive and willing partner. What you lack in prior knowledge and experience you more than make up for in sweetness and beauty.” He had moved his lips down from her shoulder to her breasts, and he took her into his mouth, teasing her nipples to hardness. “Tell me, how often does your husband use his mouth on you?”

“You mean...how often does he kiss me?”

Loki feigned stupidity, as if he did not already know the lady had never received oral pleasure. “Not precisely, no. I mean, how often does he kiss you...here?” He dragged his hand down her torso to her mound and stroked across it gently.

“Oh! He has never…that is not...do lovers…?”

She was completely at a loss for words and Loki was glad that he was here with her tonight. If he had never entered her life, this beautiful woman may have gone her entire life without being tended to by a man who wanted to make her own pleasure his priority for once. Why were men so selfish? First Thor, never asking Sif what she needed, taking his own pleasure as if she was an object, a thing to be used and discarded. Now this Vanir woman, so loving and sweet she had given a man half her life, all her youth, and three beautiful children, only to have him sate himself on her in the ways he liked best and then find additional pleasure for himself with other men, without once giving her something that was for herself alone.

“Yes, they do. Some do. Good ones. I am truly sorry you have never experienced it. If you would allow me, I would be honored to be the first to touch you that way.”

“Oh please,” she breathed. Her chest heaved with breathing that labored under the weight of desire.

Loki laid her down on the bed and pulled her legs apart gently. He had only done this with Sif and Sköna, and each of them had experienced it before and knew exactly what she wanted. Lykke had no idea. It would be best to tread carefully and pay close attention to her reactions if he was going to fulfill her needs.

Starting with the inside of her knees, he kissed her, trailing his mouth up her leg almost to her cunt and then moving to the other knee to do the same. He licked her thigh and blew on it, causing her flesh to break out in bumps. She shivered, but he was pleased to see that she also moved her legs farther apart. Slowly, making sure that every move was sensual and appealing to her, he began to lick her. When he had licked the outside well, he spread her open with his hands and ran his tongue along the very edge of one of her folds. Lykke choked out a sweet moan that made him harden completely. There was nothing quite so arousing to him as the sounds his lovers made, either their wordless cries of passion or the words they uttered in ecstasy.

As he worked his way into her, licking and kissing every part of her cunt, she relaxed more and more until her body felt boneless. His questing mouth found her clit and he sucked her in. She arched off the bed with a great gasp and a loud groan. Appalled that she had made such a noise, she covered her mouth with her hands, certain one of her daughters had heard her.

“Worry not, my dear. I have laid a spell on this room. No sound will travel outside of it while I am here. You may scream as loud as you wish. I should have thought of it this afternoon, when I was teaching you about the pleasures of taking me in your anus, but alas, it did not occur to me.”

She relaxed again and he continued his assault on her clit. Within minutes of his careful attentions, she was on the precipice. He could tell she was ready, but she was still too tense. She could not seem to let go and let the pleasure wash over her. Time for a new tactic.

“Has he ever put his fingers inside you?” Loki asked.

“His...no, never.”

Loki plunged his tongue into her opening once more, then pulled back and wet his fingers in his mouth, sliding two of them carefully into her. Just as Sif had taught him, he felt inside her for the pleasure-spot. When he found it, Lykke jumped. He bade her relax and he started massaging her inside, resuming his ministrations to her clit with his tongue and lips. This time, she was overwhelmed by the feeling and she began to emit soft cries each time she breathed out. He increased his speed and her cries became moans. She pushed against him with her hips, trying to bring herself to the brink faster. At last, Lykke took a deep breath and held it, then let it out with a scream. When she was done, her body was limp and she couldn’t lift her limbs. He pulled away from her cunt and lay down next to her, grasping her face in his hands and kissing her softly while she recovered.

“Thank you,” she said when she could finally speak.

“Of course, beautiful one,” he said. “It was my pleasure. Now, rest. I will return to my room soon so that your husband does not know I have enjoyed your lovely company.”

 

He waited until she was deeply asleep before slipping out of the room. The hall had four more doors on it. He knew the one at the end on his left was the room he was supposed to occupy. The other three must be where the daughters slept. Lykke had said they had retired to their _rooms_ , plural, so he assumed they did not share. He hoped he was right as he knocked softly on the first door. Maja answered it. When she saw him, she grasped the front of his tunic and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind her. Without any preamble, not even a kiss, she stripped off her nightdress and climbed onto the bed on all fours, her cunt facing him.

“My, my. You are eager, aren’t you my dear.”

“Ever since you fucked me earlier, in the shed, I can’t think of anything except how wonderful and large your cock was. The way it filled me, as no other ever has. I feel empty without you inside me.”

“Hmm. Sadly, I cannot be here every day for you. Tomorrow I must leave. For now, I will try to take your mind off the feeling of my cock so that you may sleep in peace thereafter.”

He got behind her and started to eat her puss. Unlike with her mother, he wasn’t slow and gentle. He didn’t want to _hurt_ Maja, but it was clear from her earlier actions that she didn’t mind being handled with a little less deference than her mother. He worked his way back and forth across her slit, licking and sucking bits of her into his mouth as he discovered them. Soon enough, she was coming. When she was done, she started to turn over, but he stopped her.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I thought now that you’ve given me something, you’d like to have something for yourself,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I think tonight is my night to give. I have received enough of late.”

In his mind, he cycled through all the things Sköna had taught him. When he thought of the thing he would most like to do to Maja, he smiled. Grasping her cheeks in his hands, massaging them, he pulled them apart. Starting at the very bottom of her slit, he worked his way up to her anus, licking across it with the flat of his tongue. She let out a cry and looked behind her. Meeting her eyes, he smiled mischievously and tongued her again, pushing as far inside as he could. He had to massage her clit as well, but eventually she came, her juices squirting out onto his hand. He removed his tongue from her ass and laid his head on her buttocks to rest for a moment. After a while, he lay down next to her and pulled her hips over him so he could again reach her with his mouth. She sat up and quickly caught on to the advantages of this position, grinding her sex into his mouth as he sucked her clit and pushed his fingers into her ass.

Maja had come many more times before he stopped and allowed her to rest. She lay on the bed, legs spread apart and chest heaving.

“Your Highness, will you ever return? I do not know if I can live without you,” she said.

He laughed lightly.

“My dear, you will certainly live. Now that I have shown you some pleasures you did not know of before, the only thing you must do is find you a husband who will be compliant to your will. Once you have trained him in the ways you like to be pleased, make him suffer if he neglects his task. If you pick well, the man you get will worship you for the rest of your life.”

“But what shall I do until I find him?” she asked.

“I am not sure, but I will endeavor to think of something,” Loki said. The god kissed her goodnight and left her room quietly.

The door across the hall opened after two knocks to reveal a sleepy-eyed Tuva. She giggled when she saw who it was.

“Has my Lord come for another bite?” she asked.

His answer was to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to the bed as she stifled her shrieks with her hand. Once the room was locked and his silence spell in place, he treated her to much the same as he had done for her mother and sister. Tuva turned out to have a very sensitive puss, and the lightest touch with his tongue set her to panting. Unlike laying passively, as her mother had done, or grinding into him, as her sister had, Tuva grasped his hair in her fists, guiding his lips and tongue where she willed it. She also said things neither of the others had.

“My Prince, fuck me until I cannot breathe. I want you so badly. I need you.”

He had intended to only give the four ladies pleasure with his mouth and hands, but the sound of her begging was too much for him to resist. It had never occurred to him that he could grow weary from too much sex, being that he had the constitution of a god. Asgardians were known for their ability to outlast opponents in battle, and, he assumed, in bed as well. But the events of the day had taken their toll on him, and he was beginning to feel the strain. Luckily, he thought of a partial solution.

“Tuva, love, have you ever ridden a horse?”

“No my Lord,” she smiled. “We don’t have one and I’ve never been far enough from home to need to ride.”

“Well, someday, you may find yourself in need of one. It would be best if you knew how to ride.”

“I suppose it could be useful. Would your Highness like to teach me?”

“I certainly would, my pretty girl.”

Loki lay down on Tuva’s bed on his back, cock standing up proudly. At his direction, she straddled him and he helped her put the tip of his cock inside.

“Now, simply relax,” he said.

She did, her lips sliding down over his cock until he was enveloped in her warmth.

“Wonderful, you feel amazing my darling. Our encounter earlier this evening was far too brief. Now, imagine that you are in a saddle, and I am your horse. When your horse moves forward, his shoulders will move with his legs. You must lift yourself and lower yourself in time with the horse’s movements. Like so.”

He grasped her by the hips and effortlessly lifted her halfway up his shaft and then lowered her back down. He did so a few more times and she grunted in pleasure.

“I’ll let you try now,” he said.

He let go of her hips and she raised herself, pulling part way off him, then ground her hips back down onto his pelvis with a gasp.

“Like this, my Lord?”

“Yes, exactly like that,” he replied. “I will tell you when to rise and when to fall. I’m a horse, though, and horses can’t speak,” --at this she giggled again-- “so I will say ‘clip-clop, clip-clop,’ as the horse’s hooves would go. When I say ‘clip,’ rise, and when I say ‘clop,’ fall. Now, clip, clop, clip, clop.”

He chanted slowly and she obeyed, moving herself onto and off of him to the rhythm he set. For a few minutes, they did only that. She threw her head back and grasped her own breasts, rubbing them fervently. Once she had the rhythm perfect, he stopped chanting and she continued at the same pace.

“When one is in battle,” he said, “there are many distractions, yet one must also ride properly to avoid causing damage or injury to oneself or one’s steed. Chasing an enemy across the theater of engagement--that is what the more pretentious military men call a battlefield--is only possible if the rider is skilled enough to ride fast or slow, turn, and jump without losing his seat. To teach you to avoid interruptions, I am going to use my fingers to rub your pearl, and no matter how good it feels, you must promise to not break your rhythm. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Majesty? I am only a Prince, my dear.”

“No, Majesty, you are my king,” she said.

He laughed very hard and she lost her rhythm as they both collapsed in mirth. They spent a few minutes kissing and tickling each other. He liked her laugh. It was full of light and joy. Eventually, their frivolity wore itself out and they resumed her ‘riding lessons.’

Rather than try to match his fingers to her motions, he simply pressed his whole hand against her cleft so that as she moved she rubbed herself on him. Tuva sighed and her breathing began to match her strokes. He pushed his hand against her harder and she started to let out little yips of pleasure each time she fell and her clit struck against his knuckles. When she came, she leaned her head back and let out a long howl of ecstasy.

“Good girl,” he said. “That’s the trot. This is the canter.”

He began to pick her up and pull her back down onto his hips quickly, almost slamming her against him. It only took a few strokes before he came.

 

The final door, across from his own, belonged to Juni, whom he had learned was the youngest of the three. He started by laying with her on the bed kissing her neck and shoulders passionately, making small nips along her collarbones. He worked his way down to her cunt and began to pleasure her, but she stopped him.

“Would you try something a girl I know told me about?”

Loki was thrilled that she wanted to experiment.

“Certainly! What is it?”

“You have to lay on your back.”

He obliged and she knelt over his mouth, facing his feet. He immediately started eating her again, and she leaned down, crawling forward with her hands on either side of him until she was laying flat on top of him. While he caressed her folds with his tongue, she fondled his cock and took him into her mouth. It did not take long for each of them to find release. After, he lay in her bed and pulled her onto him, stroking her back as he held her in his arms.

“Earlier, when I fucked you in the kitchen, and just now, as you rode on my tongue, you never made any noise,” he said. “Is that normal for you, my dear?”

“Yes, I never yell like some other girls.”

“Doesn’t it feel good? Did what I did to you feel good?”

“Certainly, but I’m not going to go hollering about it,” she countered.

Loki smiled wickedly.

“If I can make you moan, what would you give me?”

“I’ve already given you pretty much everything, haven’t I?” she asked.

“Not everything,” he said. He ran his hand around her ass and stroked lightly across her opening.

“You want that? I’ve never let anyone. Not even Harald, the miller’s son, and he’s the handsomest boy in town,” she said.

“Is he more handsome than I? Should I fear this rival for your attentions?”

“No, you’re a lot prettier. You’re prettier than most of the girls around.”

Loki laughed. He was very glad Thor wasn’t around to turn the heads of all the women he was encountering.

“I would like to make a wager, then. If I can make you yell, you let me do what I wish to you. If you do not, I will give you...hmm. What would you like?”

“A jeweled necklace,” she said.

“Very well. If you should last without making a sound, I shall give you a jeweled necklace.”

Loki thought about how best to please her. He desperately wanted to fuck her beautiful round bottom. It seemed he wasn’t man enough for her, even if she did think he was ‘pretty.’ Perhaps...perhaps if one Loki was not man enough…

He created a corporeal double of himself. Juni blinked several times, startled to see two Lokis where there had been only one. Loki pulled her up on all fours and entered her from behind. His clone ran his hard member along her lips until she parted them so he could fuck her mouth. The two Lokis began to thrust into her. Juni was clearly enjoying herself, pushing her hips against him on one end and swirling her tongue around his member between thrusts on the other end. The Loki behind her laid down over her back and reached around to massage her throbbing clit. Again, she came without making a sound.

This simply wasn’t working. He needed to do something truly different. Hmmm.

“Lie down on your back, just like that, yes. Spread your legs, and your arms. Good. Don’t move, and close your eyes. Keep them closed until I say you may open them.”

She was spread-eagle on the bed, her full breasts hanging off her torso and her nipples deliciously erect. He invoked his seidr and began to shapeshift. When he was done, he started at her toes, kissing and licking her, moving up her legs to her honeyed center. Next he took her breast in his mouth, sucking and teasing. She smiled, but made no sound. Finally, he turned around so his head was facing her feet, on top of her, just as they had begun the evening’s events, and positioned his own crotch over her face, just as his was above hers.

“You may open your eyes, sweet one,” said a female voice.

Juni’s eyes flew open and she saw, not the male Prince of Asgard she expected, but a female form.

“Taste me, my lovely. As I will you,” said the sultry-voiced Princess.

Loki lowered her mouth to Juni’s puss and began to lick and stroke the girl with her tongue. After a moment of hesitation, she felt Juni’s tongue tentatively run along her slit. Loki moaned and pushed her knees farther out on the bed, spreading her slit wider. Juni responded by reaching her hands up and prying Loki’s cheeks apart. The girl buried her face in the cunt before her, breathing deeply and savoring the scent of her lover’s arousal. Loki was more experienced at this, and in next to no time, Juni was coming, her walls clenching around Loki’s fingers. Loki climbed off her and laid down on the bed next to her. Juni got up and knelt between Loki’s thighs. The girl began again, licking and probing the goddess’s folds with her tongue. She found Loki’s clit and sucked it into her mouth, flicking her tongue against it rapidly. Loki moaned with pleasure.

“Your fingers, please, put them inside of me,” Loki moaned breathlessly.

Juni wet her fingers with Loki’s slick and gently pushed them inside the hot canal. Then, to Loki’s surprise, she wet the fingers of her other hand with some of the juices that were leaking out around her digits and pushed that hand inside herself. Juni thrust her hands into both cunts with the same pounding rhythm. Loki, desperate for more, pushed herself against the girl’s fingers. Juni, trying to draw the moment out, removed her fingers and began to circle Loki’s clit with her thumb instead. Loki moaned delightedly and arched her back, which pulled her cunt away from Juni’s mouth. The girl forgot herself and made a noise of disappointment before she pulled Loki’s hips back to her mouth and moaned as she locked her lips over the goddess’s clit once more. A moment later, Loki came with a long, loud moan, and Juni came a second after her, her fingers furiously rubbing herself.

The girl crawled up the bed and kissed Loki fully on the lips. The goddess could taste herself on Juni’s lips, and it made her desire to have her reward even more.

“My darling, you made a sound. You know what that means, don’t you?” Loki grinned wickedly as he reverted to his male form.

 

Juni seemed to enjoy Loki pounding into her ass even more than her mother had. After the initial movements, when he worked to loosen her as gently as he could, she became wild, thrusting back against him and impaling her ass on his cock over and over again. He came in her many times, until his milk leaked out of her anus and dripped down onto her beautiful folds. Spent, he barely managed to kiss her goodnight and drag himself down the hall to the door of the room Lykke had given him to sleep in. He slept so soundly he didn’t even dream, and he slept until the afternoon of the next day.


	21. 21 December, 1834-9 January, 1835

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet winter day, when some decisions are made.
> 
> Chapter specific tags/warnings: anal sex, vaginal sex, sex with toys, double penetration (object/penis, object/object), minor breast play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been too long since an update to this story! Life gets complicated, and the next thing you know it's been a month and...well. 
> 
> Are you enjoying this fic? Anything specific you would like to see in coming chapters? Leave me a comment and let me know!
> 
> In the meantime, I also began writing another story with the same "version" of Loki, (i.e. it happens in the same universe as this story, which is mostly canon-compliant, though I take a few liberties here and there) but set very far in the future (after Infinity War.) It's called Space Junk, and if you like Science Fiction, you might enjoy it.

“When I awoke, I bid the family goodbye, and made my way back to the inn where I was previously lodging. Within the day, my new wardrobe had arrived, so I went back to the market and purchased saddlebags for my horse to carry it all.”

“Did you ever go back?”

“No, but I did give them something to remember me by. In the market, there was a very skilled craftsman who carved wooden objects. I commissioned him to carve five identical, life-size copies of my cock, in the finest wood possible. He varnished them well, so no one...er... _handling_ them would be in danger of splinters. I sent each member of the family a separate box with a note that said, essentially, that if they ever missed the feeling of me inside them, they could use this instead.”

“Oh Loki!” she laughed. “You are terrible.”

“I admit they probably got less enjoyment out of a wooden phallus than from my own, but perhaps not. Wood neither needs to be fed nor cosseted. Some might prefer it to a living being, at times.”

“I would never. I want you in my arms, always.”

Loki gathered his lover to his chest, holding her tightly.

“And I you, my love.”

In the days following, they celebrated Yule holiday. Loki amazed Ella by creating beautiful garlands of fresh holly, ivy, laurel and mistletoe that she delighted in draping across the banisters inside and balustrades outside. He hired two different quintets from London to come up for an evening each. One was a pianoforte and wind troupe, which played Beethoven, the other a string quintet that played Mozart.

One cold, January day, Loki sat in the morning room, reading to himself, when he heard Ella sigh greatly.

“What is it, my love?”

She turned from the window and he saw that she looked very sad.

“I don’t like the winter. Everything is too quiet. It makes me think of death and sadness. I like the summer better.”

“Assuredly,” he said. “But in the summer, there is no snow.”

“Snow!” she exclaimed. “I have read of it a thousand times, but never have I seen even a single flake. Does it snow in Asgard?”

He laid his book aside and patted his lap. She sat on him and he cradled her in his arms.

“Most of Asgard is a golden plain, dotted with trees that shine like molten gold and silver in the sunlight, but all around the valley where the palace sits there are great mountains that rise to the sky, and they are covered with snow year-round. A day’s ride can take you there. When we were young, father used to take Thor and I up to the mountains. We would hunt in the snow and play in the half-frozen lake. Thor loved to use his hammer to crack the ice. Then, he and our other friends would throw me into the lake.”

“Oh! What a terrible thing to do! Were you alright, my darling?”

“Quite. I seem to be immune to the cold, for some reason. It would form a skin of ice on my body, but I never even felt it. When I was young, I thought I might someday become a god of winter. I asked my mother if I could marry Skaði, the winter maiden, when I was grown. She told me no, but every time I saw Skaði after that, she winked and waved at me. I think my mother must have told her what I had said. Thor could never withstand even a tenth of what I could in snow or ice. I was always proud of that. Once, I challenged him to walk a league with me, completely unclothed. We made it about half way before he collapsed.”

Loki’s face and voice had both grown solemn and contemplative.

“I didn’t mean any harm. I was but a boy. Only a few hundred years old. I had no idea it would affect him so much. When I realized, I tried to drag him back but he was very heavy. He’s older than I and he was bigger, even then. Luckily, my ability to jump from space to space was something innate, not something learned, and I had it even then. I grabbed hold of him and jumped as far as I could, back toward our camp. He promptly threw up. I jumped again, and he became sick again. Each time I jumped, I was able to make it a little less far, and I was terribly afraid I wouldn’t make it back to our camp with him in time. Then, I saw the smoke from our campfires and I called out to our father, who heard and came to get us. He was so angry! After he brought Thor in and got him warmed, he...it’s the only time he ever...hit me. I thought for a moment he might kill me. I’ve never seen him so angry. Once Thor woke up and seemed fine, father calmed down somewhat. Still, he gave me a lecture I shall never forget, about how my brother was delicate, no matter how strong he might look, and that I had to be more responsible. ‘Thor can’t withstand the winter as you can, Loki. He is of the sunlight, and you are of the shadow. You are both my sons, but you are very different. He is of summer and you of winter.’ On and on he went about it. That was the last time he ever...the last time I went hunting.”

“Your father stopped going?”

“No. No he...he took Thor. They...left me at the palace. Mother started teaching me magic then.”

Loki was silent for a few moments, and Ella stroked his cheek, pushing his black hair away from his face.

“I think she wanted to give me something of my own, once she realized I would never fit in. Thor and our father, they’re cut from the same block of immobile stone, you see. When he is old and grey, I believe Thor could put on father’s garments and none would be the wiser. They’re warriors. They fight, and feast, and fu--well. They both like women--a lot.” He chuckled.

“Your father as well? Does...is your mother angered by that?”

“My mother was never _pleased_ that Odin took other bedpartners, but she is his queen and consort, not his jailer. Such is often the way with royal marriages. She gave him sons to be his heirs, and then I believe she moved into her own quarters permanently. Don’t misunderstand me. They love one another greatly. He adores my mother. I can’t think of anyone he loves more, not even my brother. And she loves him as well. But they are very different people. My mother is a great woman. She is strong, and fierce in her own way, but also gentle and kind. If you make Odin angry, you will know by his anger and his stormy countenance, and by how he yells loudly enough to be heard in Helheim. If you make Frigga angry, however, you may not know at all, unless you realize that her quiet silence is her patiently waiting until you are most vulnerable. Then, she will deliver to you a blow made of words so clever and piercing that you will feel the shame of a thousand wayward sons. She will let you think on that for a brief instant, and then take you into her arms and tell you all is forgiven. She even means it. Getting Frigga to forgive you is an easy thing. Forgiving yourself for disappointing her...that is much harder won.”

“She sounds wonderful. I never knew my mother.”

“I am sorry, my dove. I wish I could take from you all the pain of your life, now and forever.”

Ella shook her head.

“I thank you for your generous and loving desire to spare me pain, but without pain, how are we to know ourselves? It is easy to behave well when we are comfortable and well-cared for. It is much harder to do what is good and right when we are hurt and in pain. If we do, though, we recognize within ourselves the strength to endure.”

“How is it that you have grown so wise, little one? You are young, even by Midgardian standards. Are you…how old are you now?”

“I shall be three-and-twenty on the twenty-first of March.”

“Ahhh. That explains why you are so deliciously arousing. That is the date of the feast of Ostara, the goddess of sex. Sometimes she’s attributed differently, but that is only because one of her rivals once came to Midgard and wiped all trace of her from the minds of men. Fortunately for Ostara, that witch missed one reference, in a book by a monk named Bede. The Midgardians still worshiped her for a time, but for the wrong attributes. Still, power is power.”

“Witch? There are witches in Asgard? And what do you mean by power?”

Loki paused, unsure what to tell her. Amora was dangerous, and he didn’t even want to say her name, lest he attract her attention. He should have never mentioned her attempt to make Midgardians stop worshiping Ostara. Now, he would have to temporize, tell a half-truth, or make up a lie.

“There are witches, of a sort. My mother and I are not the only among us who practice magic. One of those was someone Ostara quarrelled with, apparently. They tried to eradicate one another. As to power, most of us draw it from the element or attribute we are associated with. Thor is the god of storms, of lightning, so he can create those things, but sometimes they also happen naturally, and he can draw power from them. I draw power from pranks, and mischief, among other things. With Ostara, she draws power from the love and copulation of beings. Not all of them, or she would be more powerful than Ymir himself! Each time we do, oh...this...”

He slid his hand into the bosom of her dress and stroked his nimble fingers across her nipple, feeling it harden under his touch. He pulled the dress down, past her shoulder, and gently pulled her breast from it.

“Or, when we do this…”

He took her into his mouth and sucked. Ella threw her head back and clenched her fingers in his hair.

“We are giving a tiny bit of worship to Ostara. A sliver of love from each of us feeds her, trickling in like melting snow.”

Loki playfully pulled her dress to shreds, her giggles turning to moans as he began to rub her secret places. She unlaced him and pulled his rigid member free, impaling herself on him before he could even begin to pull her into position. Thrusting up into her, he held her in place with his hands about her hips.

“My love, can we…”

Ella gestured behind her, at a long couch she sometimes used for reading. He picked her up as he stood, wrapping her legs about him and crossing to the other piece of furniture. He thought she wanted him to lay her down upon it, but she surprised him by shaking her head and pulling herself off of him. Ella knelt on the couch, grasping the back of its frame and wiggling her ass at him.

He put his tip at her entrance but she pulled forward.

“Not there. A little higher, please.”

He laughed and pushed into her ass slowly. They had done this act several times since the first, and she had learned how to relax and take him without being deliberately stretched aforehand. When he was fully within her, he began to fuck her, hard.

“Do you… can you summon any of our toys from the room to hand?” she asked.

“Which do you want, love?”

“The rod.”

In an instant, the long, artificial phallus was in his hand. He pushed it against her lips and inside, slowing his thrusts into her ass for just a moment until the toy was fully seated. When it was in, he whispered a tiny spell to keep it inside until he was ready to remove it, and another to bring it to life. Within her, it moved, pulsing and rolling. He could feel it on his cock, through her walls, and it was all he could do to keep from finishing that instant. Only moments later, she shuddered as she came, crying out and panting. He allowed himself to release, filling her anus with his seed, then withdrawing from her.

Ella rolled onto her back, breathing hard. The rod was still within her, pulsing, and in a moment, she was panting again as it stimulated her even more. Loki conjured a replica of the rod and lifted her legs, inserting it gently into her still-stretched anus. She was slick from his seed and it had no trouble sliding inside of her. He bespelled it like the first, and sat back to watch her as the two writhing toys massaged her most intimate of places.

She needed more, he thought.

He conjured a formless ball of power and shaped it into a tiny bell-shape, puckered at one end and closed at the other. He made a second and a third the same. The first two he placed on her nipples, where the movement spell set them to work sucking her. The last he placed over her hardened clit. Ella was screaming in ecstasy and calling his name. Her orgasms were coming faster now, as he aided them, supplementing her natural sensations with magic. He stopped them when she lost consciousness, and carried her up to bed.

 

In the morning, Ella woke to find the room colder than usual. She rose and looked out the window.

“Loki! Loki wake up!”

He sat up and stretched, smiling at her from the green bed.

“What is it that has my love so excited this morning?”

“Snow! It snowed in the night!”

“Did it now?” he smirked.

“My love! Did you make snow for me? With your magic?”

“You wanted to see it, did you not?”

She ran to the bed and threw her arms around him, kissing every inch of his head and neck.

“If you continue like this, the snow will melt before I will be able to let you outside to touch it, my pet.”

She released him and dressed in her warmest clothes. All day they frolicked in the snow. He taught her to make and throw snowballs, and her aim proved to be nearly as good as his. She caught him in the face several times, and he just barely missed hers time and time again--on purpose, of course, though she knew it not. When they were tired, they went back inside and made love on the rug before the fire to get warm.

“This was a beautiful day. I like snow,” she said from the comfort of his arms. He was curled around her, warming her back with magic, as the fire warmed her front.

“Would you like more snow in the days to come? Or would you rather we went somewhere warm instead?”

“Warm?” she asked. “Where could we go that it is warm?”

“There are many parts of the world, my love. I can take you somewhere that it is now summer--warm and lovely.”

“Oh! That would be wonderful!”

“I forget sometimes that you have never traveled outside of this island. I think we should make a grand tour of the world. I will take you everywhere, and you may see everything there is to see!”

“Could we go to London first?”

“If you wish it. Why London?”

“I would like to see a play, if there is one to be seen. One of Shakespeare’s. I care not which, for I have never seen any performed.”

“Never?”

“No. I have only read them.”

He shook his head sadly.

“My darling, they are not meant to be read. They are meant to be seen and heard! That settles it. We shall travel first to London, where you will be outfitted with a traveling wardrobe. We will take in some plays first. I own a box at Covent Garden _and_ at Drury Lane, and one of my former lovers owns the Sans Pareil--she will give us any seats we wish. Then, perhaps...the National Gallery, and the British Museum at Montagu House. There is a great addition to it being built by an architect named Smirke--rather unfortunate name, but a nice enough fellow--but I don’t think it is ready to be toured yet. However, one section of it, called the King’s Library is completed. It is so vast, it makes my home library here look like a few shelves.”

Ella was astounded. The library at Thornwood contained so many volumes, she thought it must be akin to Alexandria itself.

“What is held in the museum? Father told me of its existence, but not of its contents.”

“They have there relics of the Eyalet of Egypt, of Abyssinia, Hindustan and Cathay. They have sculptures from Greece and Rome, and great pieces of the Athenian temple. It is a wondrous place, even for something of Midgard.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“It is, but it will be more wonderful seeing it with you. However…” Loki’s voice grew contemplative. “Sit up for a moment, my love.”

He took her hands in his and looked at her.

“When we travel, it would be improper for people to believe you are anything other than my wife.” He took one hand away from hers, closed it, then opened it again. A ring lay on his palm. “Ella, will you be my wife?”

Her answer, though nonverbal, was a definite yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names of the places they are going to visit and/or see things from, such as the Eyalet of Egypt, Abyssinia, Hindustan and Cathay, are what those places (Egypt, Ethiopia, India and China, respectively) were commonly known as in the period. Egypt was still a part of the Ottoman Empire then, having been reclaimed from the French in the early part of the century.


End file.
